BRUSH 


7 


THE  SAGE  BRUSH 
PARSON 


BY 
A.    B.   WARD 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  &   COMPANY 

i    , , 

a 


COPYRIGHT,  1905, 

BY 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY 

All  Eights  Reserved 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


1 5-3 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  IN  THE  SAGE  BRUSH  COUNTRY 1 

II  "FULFILLING  His  WORD" 12 

III  A  SERVICE  AT  Lou  PUGH'S 21 

IV  SENT  TO  EUREKA 32 

V  THREE  FRIENDS  AND  AN  ENEMY 44 

VI  GATHERING  A  CONGREGATION 57 

VII  LETTERS  FROM  ENGLAND ,     .     .     .  63 

VIII  ELSIE  GOES  IN  SEARCH  OF  "  C.  V." 72 

IX  CHARLEY  DAVENPORT'S  FUNERAL 82 

X  CONFIDENCES 93 

XI  JACK  AND  MAT  "COME  INTO  THE  GAME"     ...  106 

XII  AN  UNLUCKY  BRIDEGROOM 114 

XIII  THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  D.  P.  1 124 

XIV  A  TROUBADOUR 137 

XV  FAIRY  FINGERS 146 

XVI  "THE  RABBIT  HIT" 153 

XVII  THE  HUMBLING  OF  MARTIN  YOUNG 168 

XVIII  A  CRUSADE  FOR  TEMPERANCE 177 

XIX  THE  DARE 188 


M532956 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX  KATHARINE  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW    .     .     .     .  196 

XXI  "ALL  FOOLS" 207 

XXII  THE  DEBATE 219 

XXIII  THE  BANQUET  AT  RUBY  HILL 237 

XXIV  THE  LITTLE  CHURCH 243 

XXV  SOBERING  OFF  A  DISTRICT  ATTORNEY       .     ,     .  253 

XXVI  TIRED 264 

XXVII  PROMETHEUS 270 

XXVIII  A  SURPRISE 276 

XXIX  A  MEETING 284 

XXX  EUREKA  CHANGES  FRONT 294 

XXXI  A  CALL  FROM  THE  SUPERINTENDENT  OF  MISSIONS  306 

XXXII  MARTIN  YOUNG  TELLS  WHAT  HE  SAW    .     .     .  318 

XXXIII  THE  ARREST 323 

XXXIV  KATHARINE  APPEALS  TO  WINSLOW 331 

XXXV  THE  TRIAL 342 

XXXVI  BROTHER  AND  SISTER 350 

XXXVII  PROMETHEUS  BOUND 354, 

XXXVIII  THE  DEATH  WATCH      .     . 358 

XXXIX  JACK  INTERVENES      . 365 

XL  SUSPENSE 373 

XLI  THE  REPRIEVE •     .     .     .  379 

XLII  To  THE  DESERT ,     .     ,  386 


The  Sage   Brush   Parson 

CHAPTER  I 

IN  THE  SAGE  BRUSH  COUNTRY 

WHEN  the  train  stopped  at  Battle  Mountain, 
a  certain  morning  in  May,  1881,  there  was 
only  one  passenger  to  alight.  He  presented 
a  remarkable  appearance,  even  in  that  place  and  at 
that  time.  The  other  passengers  might  be  forgiven 
for  putting  their  heads  out  of  the  window  to  look 
at  him,  nor  was  it  strange  that  the  station  agent, 
rolling  his  quid  into  the  other  cheek,  stood  at  gaze,  as 
the  newcomer  stepped  briskly  towards  him.  Tall, 
slender,  with  the  bend  at  the  shoulders  which  betrays 
the  student,  the  eager  stoop  of  one  who  drinks  thirstily 
of  his  books  and  long,  intent  on  what  he  saw,  alive 
to  his  fingertips,  he  came  striding  forward,  his  large, 
dark  eyes  glowing  in-  the  pallor  of  so  much  of  his  face 
as  showed  above  the  silken  black  beard  veiling  the 
lower  half.  He  was  clothed  in  clerical  black,  all  but 
his  hat.  That  was  Nevada's,  the  cowboy's,  the 
miner's,  a  soft,  golden-brown  sombrero,  giving  him 
a  brigandish  look  which  ill  consorted  with  his  large, 
gentle,  melancholy  eyes.  He  moved  with  impetuous 


2  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

energy,  his  long  black  coat-tails  floating  out  behind, 
yet  sedately,  as  one  accustomed  to  be  noticed  and  ap 
proved. 

"  Good-morning,"  he  said  cheerfully ;  "  can  you 
tell  me  where  I  can  find  a  horse  to  take  me  to 
Galena?  " 

The  station  agent  was  not  a  man  to  hesitate,  es 
pecially  when  he  scented  a  trade.  "  You  bet,"  he  re 
turned  cordially,  "  Sound  and  kind,  stands  without 
hitchin',  leads  like  a  lamb,"  and  he  disappeared  in  the 
direction  of  a  shed  behind  the  station. 

The  stranger  waited,  waving  his  hand  to  three  little 
girls  bunched  like  flowers  in  one  of  the  car  windows. 
They  waved  themselves  bodily  to  him  and  babbled 
inarticulate,  importunate  appeals,  lost  for  lack  of  an 
interpreter,  for,  before  their  mother  could  intervene 
and  translate,  the  agent  returned,  dragging  after  him 
a  sorry-looking  animal,  ribbed  like  a  sea-washed  hulk, 
knock-kneed,  spavined,  and  blind  in  one  eye. 

"  There !  "  he  announced  complacently ;  "  that's  the 
dog-gondest  finest  mar'  in  these  parts.  I'll  sell  her 
to  ye  for  fifteen,  and  you'd  have  ter  pay  ten  for  hire. 
If  she's  yourn  you  kin  do  as  yer  a  minter  with  her. 
If  ye  hired  her  an'  there  was  anythin'  happened,  there 
might  be  trouble." 

"  I'll  take  her,"  said  the  newcomer  briefly,  and 
slid  his  long,  brown  hand  deep  into  his  trousers 
pocket,  bringing  it  up  filled  with  coin.  "  Is  that 
right  ?  "  he  asked. 


IN    THE    SAGE    BRUSH    COUNTRY       3 

The  agent  ran  his  eye  over  the  money.  "  Yep,"  he 
replied  contentedly.  "  If  you  wanter  give  me  five 
more  I'd  throw  in  the  saddle." 

Again  the  long,  brown  hand  slid  into  the  trousers 
pocket  and  fished  up  another  gold  piece. 

"  That  fixes  us,"  cried  the  agent  delightedly.  "  I 
don't  suppose  ye  know  the  way?  Ye  wanter  hit  the 
south  trail  between  them  two  hills  and  wiggle  along 
the  foothills  till  ye  strike  the  up  trail.  When  ye  git 
inter  the  canyon  ye  can't  git  out." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  stranger,  climbing  awk 
wardly  into  the  saddle  and  slinging  his  traveling 
satchel  over  the  horn.  The  agent  watched  him  and 
ejected  a  stream  of  tobacco  juice  with  the  accuracy 
and  rapidity  of  a  hose  company  playing  on  a  fire. 
The  little  girls  watched  him  and  babbled  more  inar 
ticulate  appeals  for  attention.  Their  mother  made 
no  attempt  to  explain.  She  was  standing  staring 
over  the  children's  heads.  Everyone  in  the  car  stood 
and  stared.  The  men,  women  and  children  who  had 
rushed  out  of  the  one  street  of  the  little  town  at  the 
approach  of  the  train  did  the  same. 

The  young  man — he  was  young  in  spite  of  his 
beard  and  his  solemn  ways — bore  their  gaze  with  the 
utmost  tranquillity,  shook  the  reins,  and  spoke  en 
couragingly  to  the  horse.  The  animal  stiffly  re 
sponded.  At  the  same  moment  the  locomotive  gave 
a  shriek  and  started  on  its  way,  which  lay  parallel 
with  the  street.  There  was  a  flutter  of  handkerchiefs 


4  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

at  the  windows,  the  horseman  lifted  his  hat ;  then  the 
train  went  on,  and  Clement  Vaughan,  once  itinerant 
preacher  in  Gainsborough,  England,  became  an  atom, 
a  speck,  in  the  wide  expanse  of  the  Nevada  plain,  ab 
solutely  alone. 

He  turned  in  the  saddle  to  look  this  way  and  that. 
Wide  stretches  of  gray,  dusty  soil,  with  leprous 
blotches  of  alkali,  he  saw,,  patches  of  sage  brush,  no 
other  growing  thing,  high  mountains  rimming  the 
horizon.  Over  him  burned  the  blue  of  a  cloudless  sky. 
Around  him  poured  the  limpid  atmosphere.  A  curv 
ing  line  of  willows  showed  the  path  of  the  Humboldt 
River.  The  one  street  of  Battle  Mountain  stood  out 
straight  and  clea^r.  All  else  was  barren  plain,  sage 
brush  and  alkali. 

Towards  the  two  little  hills  between  which  ran  the 
road  the  stranger  urged  his  horse ;  but  the  two  little 
hills  evermore  retreated.  They  were  like  everything 
else  in  this  strange,  tantalizing,  new  country.  At  last 
he  reached  them  and  began  to  climb.  Sounds  met  him, 
coming  forward:  the  rattle  of  wheels,  the  clank  of 
chains,  the  call  of  the  driver,  and  between  the  walls  of 
sage  brush  appeared  the  leaders  of  a  string  of  mules. 
They  shied  at  sight  of  him,  and  the  entire  twenty 
swerved  from  the  road.  The  driver,  seated  on  the  off 
wheel-horse  in  front  of  the  first  canvas-topped  wagon 
— there  were  two — pulled  on  the  iron  rod  which  went 
from  the  bit  of  one  leader  to  the  rein  of  the  other,  and 
commenced  to  swear.  He  cursed  the  leaders  and  he 


IN    THE    SAGE    BRUSH    COUNTRY       5 

cursed  all  the  other  mules  of  the  string,  calling  each 
by  name ;  he  cursed  their  ancestors  and  their  descend 
ants  to  the  third  and  fourth  generations,  backwards 
and  forwards,  up  and  down,  till  he  was  out  of  breath, 
and  then  he  briefly  and  succinctly  cursed  the  man  in 
his  way,  who,  astonished  at  the  picturesqueness  of  the 
profanity,  listened  as  to  something  new,  forgetting 
its  significance.  He  watched  the  driver  gee  his  train 
with  a  steady  pull  on  the  rod  and  haw  it  with  two 
swift,  strong  jerks.  The  last  wheel  of  the  second 
"  schooner  "  creaked  past  him. 

"  Wonderful !  "  he  ejaculated,  "  Wonderful !  "  and 
jogged  along. 

The  road  was  a  rough  one,  a  mere  path  in  the  sage 
brush  widened  by  use.  When  the  ruts  had  become  too 
deep  others  had  been  formed,  to  be  abandoned  in  turn 
for  the  first  when  these  had  been  filled  with  drifting 
sand  or  washed  by  heavy  rains.  For  a  mile  or  more 
the  road  traversed  the  hills,  then  descended  into  the 
Reese  River  Valley,  but  continued  to  cling  to  the  base 
of  the  mountains.  All  at  once  they  entered  the 
ravine.  Rocks  loomed  on  either  side.  Cottonwood 
trees  began  to  appear  and  the  thick,  rank  bunch- 
grass  on  which  cattle  fed.  Part  of  a  herd  came  tear 
ing  down  the  slope  directly  in  his  path,  and  drank 
eagerly  of  a  small  stream  trickling  over  the  stones 
into  a  natural  basin.  Huge,  wild-eyed  creatures  they 
were,  branded  on  the  rump,  or  with  cleft  ears  or  dew 
laps  slit  in  strings  to  tell  who  owned  them.  They  eyed 


6  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  intruder  suspiciously,  swerved  to  one  side  as  they 
passed  him  and  went  down  the  ravine  with  impulsive, 
aimless,  shuffling  gait. 

A  few  miles  farther  the  traveler  came  upon  a  de 
serted  stamp-mill,  as  he  deemed  it,  from  the  red 
dust  of  the  crushed  ore  covering  the  roof  and 
sides. 

Higher  up  there  was  another,  like  the  first,  a  rough 
wooden  structure  built  into  the  hill.  Then  the  road 
made  a  sudden  turn  and  there,  cut  off  from  the  world, 
on  a  shelf,  a  niche,  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain, 
stood  a  cluster  of  small  houses,  built  alike,  of  rough 
boards,  with  square  fronts,  doors  set  thick  with  win 
dows,  and  "  stoops  "  to  offset  th'.  slope  of  the  canyon. 
One  of  them  was  larger  than  the  rest,  and  on  its  stoop 
lounged  a  company  of  men:  red-shirted  miners,  cow 
boys  in  blue  or  gray,  with  heavy  top-boots,  all 
smoking. 

The  newcomer  alighted,  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
horse,  a  fact  which  did  not  escape  the  men  on  the 
stoop,  and  came  towards  them. 

"  Good-evening,  gentlemen,"  he  began  with  boyish 
confidence,  "  Can  you  direct  me  to  Frank  Henley's 
— Why,  there  you  are!"  he  called  joyously,,  as  a  tall, 
fair  man  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Clement  Vaughan ! "  cried  the  other,  hurrying  to 
meet  him.  "  We  didn't  expect  you  for  a  month. 
I'd  have  met  you.  Who  gave  you  that  rack-o'-bones 
to  ride?  Martin  Young,  Will  Dower,  this  is  my 


IN    THE    SAGE    BRUSH    COUNTRY       7 

friend  Vaughan.  Come  in,  come  in.  Mary  will  be 
delighted."  Henley  led  the  way  into  the  house, 
shouting,  "  Mary,  Clement's  here !  " 

Two  fair-haired  girls,  of  a  dozen  years  or  less,  came 
out  of  one  of  the  rooms  which  led  into  the  hall,  their 
mother  following. 

"  How  you've  grown ! "  exclaimed  Vaughan. 
"  May,  I'd  never  have  known  you !  And  can  this  be 
Lilian?  Ah,  Mary!"  he  kissed  her  with  brotherly 
affection. 

"  Clement !  I  am  so  glad !  "  she  cried,  returning 
his  embrace,  then  held  him  at  arm's  length  and  scruti 
nized  him  anxiously.  "  You  look  better  than  I  ex 
pected.  I  thought  from  what  you  wrote  you'd  hardly 
be  able  to  take  the  journey.  Our  Nevada  air  will  do 
wonders  for  you.  Look  at  me !  " 

"  I'm  looking,"  laughed  Vaughan.  "  I  was  about 
to  remark  that  you  were  thinner  than  ever  and  just 
as  pale." 

"  She  works  all  the  time,"  grumbled  her  husband. 
"When  it  isn't  one  thing  it's  another — studying, 

scribbling "  Mary  colored  sensitively  and  he 

made  haste  to  add,  "  teaching  the  girls,  tending  the 
baby,  and  worrying  over  me." 

Mary  looked  uncomfortable;  there  was  an  awk 
ward  pause  and  Frank  lounged  away  murmuring 
something  about  "  that  Chinaman." 

"  The  others  have  had  their  supper,"  explained 
Mary.  "  We  always  eat  by  ourselves.  Do  you  want 


3  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSOX 

to  go  to  jour  own  room?    Where  dad  joa  get  that 
I**  Chant** 

"  Thai,"  Cl«D«t  Ud  it  off  at  ami's  length  and 

I  lost  •!!•£  out  of  toe  window  and  bought 
tin*  at  ffae  next  station,  winch  happened  to  be  Ogden. 
I  said,  *  I  will  adopt  in  part,  at  least,  the  costume  of 
the  State*/  Don't  jou  like  it?  » 

"  It  is  utterly  incongruous,"  she  commented. 
"  And  yet  it  doesn't  seem  so.  on  you." 

*  Whew,  how  dusty  I  am ! "  he  cried,  giving  him 
self  a  shake. 

"  It's  the  sage  brush,"  she  replied     "  It  covers 

everyone.     It's  a  sort  of  initiation,  Clement.     You'll 

r     be     the     same     again.      You'll     always     be 

*  sage  brushy '  from  now  on — at  least  while  you're 

." 

While  fehe  spoke  she  was  leading  him  along  a  hall 
]jke  the  rest  of  the  interior,  with  cheesecloth 
which  wall-paper  had  been  pasted.  Through 
open  doors  Vaughan  obtained  a  glimpse  of  a  long 
room  containing  half  a  dozen  tables  covered  with  red 
rloths  nnrj  set  with  great  cups  and  plates  of  thick 

whifr  rhin.'i. 

"  How  is  Frank  doing  with  his  boarding  house?  " 

1:  i'(J. 

Mnry  shook  her  head.  "Only  half  the  mines  are 
rimniri/r  ;nid  I  hose  may  shut  down.  The  superintend- 
rnl  jiroiiiisj-s  J-'rank  his  pay,  but  one  cannot  tell. 


IN    THE    SAGE    BRUSH    COUNTRY       9 

Frank  says  he  can't  refuse  to  feed  the  men. — Here's 
your  room."  She  opened  a  door  into  a  box  of 
a  place,  containing  a  cot,  a  washstand  and  one 
chair. 

"  It's  nothing  but  a  bunk,  Clement,  but  of  course 
my  sitting-room  is  yours.  Come  there  when  you  are 
ready.  It  is  at  the  end  of  the  hall." 

Left  to  himself,  Vaughan  took  off  his  coat  and 
shook  it.  A  cloud  of  fine  aromatic  powder  filled  the 
room,  but  apparently  there  was  no  diminution  of  the 
stuff  which  had  turned  his  black  broadcloth  to  a  rusty 
gray.  He  glanced  ruefully  down  at  his  trousers : 
they  were  gray,  too.  He  took  a  look  at  himself  in  the 
small  looking-glass.  His  hair  and  beard  were  tinged 
with  the  same  impalpable  dust.  No  amount  of 
brushing  and  shaking  removed  it.  As  Mary  had 
said,  he  had  become  "  sage-brushy  "  and  would  so  re 
main. 

"  I  don't  ob j  ect  to  it,  though,"  he  told  her,  when  he 
had  joined  her  in  the  pretty  sitting-room,  so  like  her 
dear  feminine,  bookish  self,  with  its  tidies  and  otto 
mans,  its  piano  and  pictures  of  Goethe  and  Shake 
speare  and  Longfellow,  and  the  shelf  of  well-chosen 
volumes — the  Browning  he  had  given  her  among 
them.  "  I  believe  I  rather  like  it,"  he  added,  sniff 
ing  at  his  sleeve. 

"You  will  like  it,  more  and  more,"  said  Mary 
gravely.  "  It  penetrates  and  flavors  every  part  of 
you,  it  claims  you  and  you  surrender." 


10  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"How  big  and  rough  and  shaggy  the  bushes 
grow ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  There  were  some  five  feet 
high,  I'm  sure." 

"  Yes,  that's  true,"  she  returned.  "  They  are  like 
the  life  here,  large  and  coarse,  strong,  vital,  full  of 
oil,  and  full  of — bitterness." 

"  Supper's  ready,"  interposed  Frank,  opening  the 
door.  "  You  shall  have  a  hen." 

"  That  will  be  '  sage-brushy,'  too,"  said  Mary  with 
a  little  laugh.  "  Ah,  there's  Sonia !  Come,  baby," 
she  opened  her  arms  to  receive  a  violet-eyed  wean 
brought  in  by  a  young  woman  of  perhaps  twenty. 
"  Our  niece,  Minnie  Hollaway,"  Mary  explained. 
"  There  go  the  men  to  the  stoop  for  a  smoke.  You'll 
find  some  of  them  a  study,  Clement." 

No  less  did  the  men  find  the  newcomer  deserving 
of  critical  attention  and  comment,  growing  freer  as 
he  left  them  and  retired  to  his  room. 

"  Too  damn  fresh,"  said  Martin  Young,  the  cattle- 
owner,  as  he  and  Will  Dower,  who  worked  in  the 
Galena  mine,  sauntered  down  the  canyon.  "  Talks 
too  much." 

"  He  talks  well,"  said  Dower.  "  I  like  to  hear  him. 
'Most  anybody  would."  There  was  a  wistful  tone  in 
his  voice.  He  was  wondering  what  Minnie  Hollaway, 
Frank  Henley's  niece,  thought  of  the  newcomer. 
Martin  Young  was  occupied  with  the  same  query: 
hence  the  violence  of  his  criticisms. 

"  Never  had  no  razor  touch  him ! "  he  exclaimed 


IN    THE    SAGE    BRUSH    COUNTRY     11 

contemptuously.     "  Never  drank  'r  smoked  'r  chewed ! 
What  sort  of  a  feller's  that ! " 

"  Time  will  tell,"  said  Will  sententiously.  Did 
women  like  that  sort  of  thing?  he  was  asking  himself. 
They  had  always  seemed  to  favor  the  dashing,  daring, 
reckless  sort.  But  there  was  no  telling  about  women 
— what  they  would  do,  or  choose,  or  like,  and  Minnie 
seemed  mightily  taken  with  this  man. 


CHAPTER  II 


MINNIE  settled  the  question  disturbing  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  her  lovers  by  accepting 
the  stranger  as  a  being  too  good  to  be 
trifled  with,  a  man,  and  therefore  interesting,  but 
beyond  the  reach  of  her  small  coquetries  and  blandish 
ments.  The  awestruck  tone  in  which  she  asked,  "  Mr. 
Vaughan,  will  you  have  your  eggs  soft  or  hard?" 
made  Martin  Young  nestle  in  his  chair,  but  it  at  the 
same  time  relieved  his  anxiety.  And  Will  Dower  had 
no  more  fears.  Vaughan  himself  was  greatly  amused 
by  her  attitude  and  played  tricks  with  her,  now  solemn 
as  an  owl  while  he  answered  her  in  absurd  polysyl 
lables,  now  laughing  outright  at  her  efforts  to  express 
her  admiration  of  him.  The  little  girls  thought  it  was 
all  a  show  for  their  benefit,  and  giggled  at  everything 
which  they  did  not  understand,  while  Baby  Sonia 
crowed  and  chuckled  with  no  doubt  as  good  reason  as 
theirs.  Mary  did  not  quite  approve  of  this  frivolity. 
Vaughan  caught  her  more  than  once  watching  him. 
He  taxed  her  with  taking  him  too  seriously  one 
day  when  they  were  alone  together  in  her  sitting- 
room. 

If 


"FULFILLING    HIS    WORD"  13 

."I  wish  you  took  yourself  more  seriously,"  she 
answered.  "  Clement,  I  believe  you  have  changed 
since  you  began  to  study  medicine.  Why  did  you  do 
it?  I  never  thought  you  would  be  one  to  put  your 
hand  to  the  plow  and  turn  back." 

"  I  haven't  turned  back,"  he  answered  serenely. 
"  I've  kept  right  on." 

"  But  you  always  used  to  say  you  were  going  to 
work  for  the  Lord." 

"  I  am,  in  the  best  way  possible."  He  was  be 
coming  restive  under  her  probing,  but  she  felt  that 
her  cause  was  just  and  continued. 

"  Is  there  any  better  way  than  the  one  you  found 
as  a  lad,  exhorting  and  teaching?  Ah,  Clement, 
what  a  work  you  did  when  you  were  but  a  boy  of 
fifteen !  And  now  you  are  twenty-three  ?  " 

"  Twenty-four.  I've  been  studying  medicine  and 
surgery  two  years.  They  considered  me  an  apt 
scholar,  Mary." 

"  Apt?  You  are  apt  at  anything,"  she  answered 
with  severity.  "  You  can  do  whatever  you  choose. 
You  have  the  ten  talents — and  will  be  held  account 
able.  In  preaching  and  teaching  it  was  more  than  a 
talent,"  she  sighed. 

"  Oh,  I'm  still  <  the  Parson,'  "  he  answered  lightly. 
"  Everyone  but  you  recognizes  that  fact.  Didn't  you 
hear  those  fellows  last  night?  Sometimes  I  wish  I 
wasn't  so  conspicuously  different  from  the  other  ani 
mals." 


14  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Clement !  don't  be  irreverent.  It  was  no  light 
matter,  being  set  apart  from  the  cradle  as  you  were. 
Think  of  your  father  and  mother ! " 

"  They  don't  interfere :  they  didn't  disapprove  of 
my  coming  here,  sudden  as  it  was." 

"  They  disapproved  of  Delia." 

"We  won't  discuss  Delia." 

"  As  to  your  coming  here,"  she  shifted  suddenly. 
"  If  ever  the  Finger  of  God  pointed  the  way,  it  was 
in  this  case.  You  will  realize  how  you  were  directed 
and  led  when  you  come  in  contact  with  these  desperate 
men  and  disappointed  women  and  learn  of  the  heart 
breaks  and  the  tragedies ! " 

There  was  no  escaping  the  fervor  of  her  words. 
Clement  sprang  to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the  window, 
standing  there  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  When  he  re 
turned  to  her  there  was  no  lack  of  seriousness  in  voice 
or  manner  as  he  said: 

"  If  I  believed  in  myself  as  you  believe  in  me  I 
might  accomplish  something — but — I  am  not  so 
strong  as  you  think." 

"  This  Nevada  air  will  do  wonders  for  you,"  she 
answered,  misunderstanding  him. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean 
— spiritually." 

"  Would  you  undertake  anything  in  your  own 
strength,  Clement?" 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  he  replied  with  some  im 
patience.  "  But,  Mary,  try  to  understand.  You 


"FULFILLING    HIS    WORD"  15 

have  spoken  of  my  father  and  mother.  Have  you 
forgotten  their  fathers  ?  " 

Her  eyes  fell. 

"  I'm  not  only  the  revolt  of  my  parents,  I'm  a 
reversion  to  their  parents,"  he  said  earnestly.  "  I 
know  that  I  have  spendthrift,  dissolute  blood  in  my 
veins,  as  well  as  the  desire  for  godliness.  I  haven't 
been  tempted  yet,  but  I  know  temptation  exists,  for 
me ;  and  not  till  I've  met  and  overcome  it  shall  I  be 
fit  for  work  of  this  sort." 

"  All  the  more  reason,  all  the  more  reason,"  she 
cried,  "  for  you  '  not  to  sit  or  stand,  but  go.9  If  you 
have  the  sword  of  the  Spirit  and  the  shield  of  faith 
you  can  meet  temptation  and  conquer  it." 

He  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  You  don't  know 
how  weak  I  am,"  he  said  softly.  "  How  I  dread  the 
leap  in  the  dark." 

"  In  the  dark!  Oh,  Clement,  you  are  changed !  Is 
it— is  it  Delia?  " 

"  Why  do  you  all  blame  her  for  everything  ?  "  he 
responded  querulously.  "  Changes  were  bound  to 
come,  new  thoughts,  new  feelings,  new  desires.  I 
couldn't  always  remain  the  sensitive,  confiding  lad  I 
was  when  you  left  England." 

"  But  you  can  let  that  lad  determine  what  the 
man  shall  be ! "  Her  eyes  flashed  through  tears. 
"  Clement,"  she  said  with  an  effort,  "  we  have  all 
hoped  so  much  for  you.  We  have  prayed  so  earnestly 
that  you  might  do  this  work.  Who  can  touch  the 


16  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

heart  as  you  can  ?  Who  can  so  uplift  ?  I  have  been 
so  hungry  for  the  Bread  of  Heaven  which  you  have 
always  given  me  until  now.  Now  you  have  come — 
and  are  like  this " 

The  tears  ran  over,  down  her  thin  cheeks.  He  was 
on  his  knees  beside  her  in  an  instant  wiping  them 
away. 

"  Mary,  dear  sister,"  he  pleaded.  "  Don't  despair 
of  me.  Give  me  time.  I  will  do  what  I  can.  Tell 
me  how  to  help  you !  Do  you  want  me  to  hold  a  serv 
ice  here  to-morrow  ?  " 

She  smiled  tremulously.  "If  you  will,  please," 
she  murmured,  but  hastily  pushed  him  from  her, 
hearing  a  familiar  step  in  the  hall.  "  Not  a  word  of 
this  before  Frank.  He  thinks  me  a  fanatic  now.  He 
will  like  to  have  the  service,  I  don't  mean  that.  But 
he  thinks  I  care  too  much  about  these  things.  I  do 
care.  It  is  life  and  death  to  me.  But  they  all  care 
more  than  they  are  willing  to  acknowledge." 

There  was  certainly  no  lack  of  interest  displayed 
when  it  was  announced  the  following  day,  Sunday, 
that  the  young  Methodist  preacher  who  had  recently 
come  out  from  England  would  hold  services  that 
afternoon  in  Frank  Henley's  dining-room. 

There  was  a  pleasant  stir  of  anticipation  through 
out  the  little  camp.  Here  was  an  opportunity  to  put 
on  best  clothes  and  respectability,  to  court  old 
memories  and  new  hopes,  to  be  decent  and  pensive  and 


"FULFILLING    HIS    WORD"  17 

to  be  on  good  terms  with  one's  neighbors  and  to  sing 
hymns. 

When  Vaughan  came  out  of  Mary's  sitting-room 
into  the  hall,  where  Mary's  piano  had  been  moved 
within  range  of  the  dining-room  door,  every  man, 
woman  and  child  in  the  camp  was  seated  where  the 
red-covered  tables  had  been.  Their  eager,  expectant 
faces  were  lifted  to  his. 

He  took  his  place  at  the  piano  and  began  to  play 
and  sing: 

"All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name! 

Let  angels  prostrate  fall; 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem 

And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all." 


"  Crown  Him ! "  rang  out  Mary's  exultant  con 
tralto,  leading  the  sweet  pipings  of  her  little  girls. 

"  Crown  Him,"  sang  Minnie  Hollaway,  soaring 
in  clear  soprano  beyond  the  reach  of  Martin  and 
William,  rivaling  each  other  in  ambitious,  close 
pursuit. 

"  Crown  Him,"  boomed,  in  a  genial  bass,  the  big, 
red-faced  man  who,  arriving  late  and  finding  every 
seat  taken,  was  balancing  himself  with  difficulty  on 
Mary's  little  sewing  chair.  Frank  stood  silent, 
"  taking  it  all  in,"  a  pleasant  light  in  his  small,  sharp 
hazel  eyes. 

The  singer  arose  from  the  piano  and  opened  his 


18          THE    SAGE   BRUSH    PARSON 

Bible  at  the  One  Hundred  and  Forty-eighth  Psalm. 
He  read  it  through,  and  Vaughan  read  as  well  as  he 
sang,  which  was  saying  much ;  then  he  picked  out  one 
phrase  to  preach  by — "  Fulfilling  His  Word." 

There  is  a  deal  of  fatalism  in  mining  camps.  Life  is 
one  huge  gamble  to  men  who  one  day  "  strike  it  rich  " 
and  the  next  "  go  broke."  If  there  is  not  a  God  be 
hind  the  wheel  which  turns  and  turns  to  give  now 
this  one  and  now  that  his  chance,  there  is  a  Being  of 
another  sort  who  laughs  to  see  a  human  wretch  be 
fooled.  It  is  more  comfortable  to  believe  in  some 
thing  like  fair  play  and  order  and  a  reason  why. 

The  speaker  had  his  audience  with  him  from  the 
start,  as  he  pictured  the  stormy  wind  obeying  a  Pur 
pose  ;  and  as  he  led  up  to  man,  the  puppet,  the  autom 
aton,  the  pawn,  in  the  great  game  which  means  the 
evolution  of  the  best,  there  were  long  breaths  drawn, 
beads  of  perspiration  stood  out  on  tanned  foreheads, 
knotty  hands  clasped  and  unclasped  restlessly.  That 
was  it,  they  had  known  it  all  along,  they  could  not 
get  away  from  Destiny,  from  Fate,  from — why  not 
say  it — God ! 

Vaughan  was  preaching  to  himself;  that  was  why 
his  thrusts  were  so  sure,  so  keen.  He  was  well-nigh 
unconscious  of  his  listeners,  though  not  one  of  them 
suspected  it,  except  Mary.  She  saw  him  feel  his 
way  along  from  premise  to  conclusion  and  exulted, 
when  he  tied  himself  up  irrevocably  to  what  she  be 
lieved  to  be  his  lot.  She  saw  the  pallor  of  conviction 


"FULFILLING    HIS    WORD"  19 

cross  his  face,  saw  the  gleam  of  dedication  in  his 
eyes. 

Throughout  his  impassioned  pleading,  taught  by 
the  school  which  urges,  "  Cry,  spare  not !  "  she  felt 
that  it  was  himself  crying  to  himself,  that  it  was  in 
self -accusing  that  the  lash  descended,  and  when  at 
length  he  prayed  that  the  Word  might  be  revealed  to 
each  one  there  and  at  any  price  fulfilled,  her  heart 
spoke  a  fervent  "  Amen  !  " 

"  We'll  have  to  get  your  young  friend  over  to 
Lewis,"  declared  the  plump,  red-faced  man  to  Frank 
Henley,  when,  the  service  over,  the  congregation 
loitered  through  the  hall. 

"  I  don't  know  as  he'll  go,  Judge,"  Frank  replied. 
"  We'll  ask  him.  Here's  Judge  Weaver,  Clement, 
wants  you  to  hold  a  service  at  Lewis.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"  I  don't  know  when  I've  been  so — so  edified,"  de 
clared  the  Judge.  "  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Vaughan,  it 
takes  me  back  to  my  childhood  days,  when  I  learned 
religion  at  my  mother's  knee.  I  haven't  forgotten 
those  days,  sir,  no  indeed.  I  keep  a  Family  Bible 
in  the  court-room  there  at  Lewis ;  yes,  sir,  and  it's  an 
object  of — of  veneration,  sir!" 

"  You  were  asking  about  our  going  over  to  Lewis," 
reminded  Frank,  who  was  in  haste  to  clear  the  dining- 
room  and  get  the  tables  back  in  time  for  supper. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  declared  the  Judge.  "  We  need  you 
over  there.  '  There's  a  cry  from  Macedonia,  Come 


20  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

and  help  us.'  "  The  Judge  beamed  with  appreciation 
of  his  own  aptness. 

"When  do  you  want  me?"  asked  Clement.  He 
was  very  white,  now  that  the  glow  had  faded. 

"  Let's  see,  to-morrow  night  there's  a  political 
meeting  I  have  to  attend,"  mused  the  Judge.  "  Tues 
day  I  go  out  of  town,  Wednesday — I  declare,  there's 
something  every  day  this  week !  S'pose  we  say  Sun 
day?  That's  our  big  day." 

"  Very  well,  Sunday,  then,"  said  Clement.  "  I'll 
ride  over.  I  have  a  horse." 

"  Why  can't  you  come,  too,  Frank? "  inquired 
the  Judge. 

"  I  don't  know  of  anything  to  hinder,"  said  Henley. 
"  Yes,  I'll  come." 

"  We'll  look  for  you,  then,  Sunday  afternoon." 

He  shook  hands  with  Vaughan  by  way  of  sealing 
the  agreement.  "Don't  fail  us,"  he  said  with  em 
phasis. 

"  I'll  come,"  the  young  man  answered. 

Mary  Henley  heard  him,  and  again  rejoiced,  be 
lieving,  as  she  did,  that  the  fulfilling  of  God's  Word 
was  one  with  the  fulfilling  of  her  desire. 


CHAPTER  III 

A    SERVICE    AT    LOU    PUGH*S 

THAT  isn't  my  horse,"  said  Vaughan  when 
Henley  introduced  him  to  his  mount,  the 
morning  of  their  start  for  Lewis. 

"  No,  yours  fell  apart.  I  opened  the  barn  door  too 
suddenly,"  said  Henley  dryly.  "  I'll  find  you  an 
other.  You  can  use  this  one  till  then." 

"  You  find  me  too  many  things,"  said  Vaughan  im 
petuously.  "  Frank,  you're  the  most  generous  man 
I  ever  saw," 

"  It's  pride,"  said  Frank  coolly.  "  You  don't  sup 
pose  I'm  going  to  take  you  over  to  Lewis  and  have 
everybody  ask,  'What's  Henley  got  there?'  In  this 
country  it  makes  a  .heap  of  difference  what  you  ride ; 
and  that  reminds  me,  you  got  off  the  wrong  side  of 
the  horse  the  night  you  came.  It  was  all  right 
with  that  bag-o'-bones,  but  if  it  had  been  an  animal 
that  knew  anything  you'd  have  been  kicked  into  the 
middle  of  next  week.  I  thought  I'd  tell  you,"  he 
added  by  way  of  apology. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  everything  you  can,"  re 
turned  Vaughan  quickly.  "  I  know  how  green  I  am. 
What  sort  of  a  place  is  this  we're  going  to?  " 

21 


22  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Lewis  ?  Very  much  like  all  the  places  around 
here.  One  street:  first  a  saloon,  then  a  Chinese  res 
taurant,  then  a  saloon,  then  a  boarding-house,  then 
a  dance-hall  and  a  Chinese  laundry,  then  another 
saloon " 

"  Is  it  as  bad  as  that?  " 

"Pretty  bad,  Clement.  This  isn't  exactly  Ar 
cadia  you've  come  to." 

They  talked  of  other  things — of  the  big  output  at 
Esmeralda,  of  the  failure  at  Galena  to  "  make  good," 
and  what  was  doing  at  Ruby  Hill. 

Frank  told  of  his  struggles,  of  his  ambitions  for 
the  little  girls.  "  This  is  no  life  for  them,"  he  said 
abruptly,  "  or  for  their  mother ;  don't  you  suppose  I 
know  that?" 

Silence  fell  between  them,  broken  only  when 
Clement  asked  about  the  strange  growths  he  saw,  the 
stranger  soils.  He  was  amazed,  overwhelmed,  by  the 
piled-up  chaos  of  the  rocks,  the  dizzying  distances. 
"  It  is  titanic,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Merely  to  be  in 
such  a  place  stretches  a  man !  " 

"  Aye,  it  stretches  him,"  returned  Frank  grimly. 
"But  it  doesn't  fill  him.  That's  just  the  trouble 
with  the  poor  devils  you're  going  to  preach  to. 
They're  great  wide-open  mouths  and  stomachs — with 
nothing  big  enough  and  strong  enough  to  satisfy 
them." 

Again  they  rode  in  silence  and  again  Clement 
broke  forth,  "  The  grotesqueness  of  it  all !  " 


A    SERVICE    AT    LOU    PUGH'S          23 

"  Not  half  so  grotesque  as  some  of  the  humans 
you'll  see  before  you're  done,"  was  the  answer. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  young  preacher,  whose 
tendency  it  was  to  analyze  each  new  impression,  "  as 
if  Nature  had  started  in  to  make  something  of  this 
country,  and,  finding  it  too  hard  for  her,  had  aban 
doned  it  in  despair.  Nothing  but  ruins — look  at 
that!" 

"  I  know  better  than  to  look,"  said  Frank  philo 
sophically.  "  I've  known  men  who  committed  suicide 
and  women  who  went  insane  from  looking.  Come, 
come,  we  shan't  reach  Lewis  to-day."  He  whipped 
up  his  horse  and  rode  along  at  such  a  rate  that  his 
companion  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  up  with  him. 

They  fell  in  with  Judge  Weaver,  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  town,  riding  towards  home  on  a  big  black  horse. 
The  two  looked  like  an  equestrian  statue  set  in  motion. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  after  greetings  had  been  ex 
changed,  "  that  we'll  hold  the  service  at  Lou  Pugh's." 

"Where  is  his  residence?"  inquired  Vaughan 
politely. 

"  He  doesn't  reside,"  said  Frank.  "  He  bunks 
over  the  saloon." 

"  Oh,"  said  Vaughan. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  Judge  confidentially,  turning 
to  Vaughan,  "  he  has  quite  a  hall  there.  It's  the 
only  place  in  town  of  any  size." 

"  I  thought  perhaps  the  court-room "  began 

Vaughan. 


24  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Twelve  by  fourteen,"  returned  the  Judge. 
"Couldn't  swing  a  cat  there.  I've  seen  Lou  and  he's 
agreed  to  let  us  have  the  place  for  an  hour.  During 
that  time  there  won't  be  any  drinks  sold  over  the  bar 
and  business  will  be  practically  at  a  standstill." 

Lewis  was  a  typical  mining  camp,  like  Galena,  but 
newer  and  even  more  informal  in  its  arrangement. 
The  same  rough  wooden  houses,  apparently  thrown, 
helter-skelter,  in  among  the  rocks,  bore  the  same  ap 
pearance  of  "  don't  care  "  and  "  can't  help  it."  In 
the  building  which  furnished  bachelor  quarters  to  the 
Judge  they  were  served  a  generous  meal,  and  then  the 
three  walked  over  to  Lou  Pugh's. 

As  far  as  indications  went,  there  was  no  anticipa 
tion  of  their  visit  or  desire  for  it,  in  a  religious 
capacity,  although  if  they  had  come  to  drink,  bet  or 
dance,  there  would  have  been  plenty  to  welcome  them. 
Only  one  befuddled  cowboy,  attempting  to  do  the 
honors,  sidled  up  to  Vaughan  and  clapped  him  on  the 
shoulder,  exclaiming,  "Hello,  stranger!  Howdy? 
Name  your  booze !  " 

Judge  Weaver  promptly  hastened  to  the  rescue. 
The  embarrassed  cowboy  covered  his  confusion  as  he 
reeled  towards  the  bar  by  calling  loudly,  "  Gi'  me 
Kentucky  Extra — somethin'  to  go  down  like  a  buzz- 
saw!" 

Vaughan  threw  a  hasty  glance  about  the  hall.  In 
one  part  of  it  men  and  women  were  dancing  to  the 
music  of  a  fiddle.  In  another,  a  man  was  calling  off 


A    SERVICE    AT    LOU   PUGH'S          25 

numbers  to  a  crowd  about  a  table.  At  another  table 
men  were  throwing  dice,  and  at  still  another  card- 
players  were  seated.  Small  red,  blue  and  white  discs 
lay  in  piles  before  them.  They  did  not  look  up,  but 
kept  their  eyes  resolutely  on  the  bits  of  pasteboard  in 
their  hands.  The  dancers  looked,  the  girls  with  mock 
ing  smiles,  over  their  shoulders.  The  men  drinking  at 
the  bar  looked,  and  finally  Lou  Pugh,  attracted  by  the 
focusing  of  glances  on  the  Judge  and  his  companions, 
turned  and  saw  the  visitors.  He  hurried  forward, 
his  round,  good-humored  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"  Glad  to  see  ye,  gentlemen,"  he  cried,  seizing  a 
hand  of  each  and  worrying  it.  "  When  d'ye  come  in  ? 
Just  now?  Well,  I  declare,  never  saw  ye.  Business 
is  drivin',  that's  a  fact.  I'll  have  things  all  right, 
here,  in  a  minute.  What's  that  you  say?  Want  the 
organ  up  in  front.  Any  way  you  like." 

He  beckoned  to  four  stalwart  miners,  and  the  fine, 
large  instrument,  his  pride,  was  lightly  lifted  and  as 
lightly  placed  in  front  of  the  bar.  By  this  time  the 
attention  of  all  in  the  room  had  been  attracted  to  the 
spot  where  the  Judge  stood,  pleasantly  excited,  and 
Henley,  watchful,  interested,  beside  the  young 
preacher,  alert  as  a  racehorse  before  the  first  heat. 
Whatever  experiences  he  had  had  in  the  past  went  for 
nothing  here,  he  knew.  But  he  also  knew  that  some 
where  in  the  bottom  of  every  human  heart  is  a  place 
where  it  resembles  every  other  human  heart.  He  meant 
to  find  it.  Under  the  rouge,  the  tawdry  finery  of  the 


26  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

women,  under  the  bravado  of  the  men,  hidden  in  the 
ashes,  he  would  find  the  divine  spark  and  blow  it  into 
life. 

Lou  Pugh  had  climbed  upon  a  chair  and  was  stamp 
ing  on  the  bar.  "  Boys,"  he  called,  "  Pve  got  a 
surprise  party  for  you.  This  camp  ain't  much  on 
religion.  We've  never  had  a  parson  here  before.  But 
Judge  Weaver's  brought  a  parson  friend  o'  his'n 
and  I've  given  him  full  swing  for  an  hour.  Treat 
him  white,  boys,  treat  him  white ! "  He  climbed  down. 
"  Fire  away,  Parson,"  he  directed. 

"  No,  no,  wait  a  minute,"  pleaded  the  barkeeper. 
He  hurried  from  the  room  and  presently  returned, 
his  arms  filled  with  blankets.  With  these  he  pains 
takingly  draped  the  bar,  the  bottles,  the  beer  and 
whiskey  barrels,  the  gaudy  advertisements.  "  I  was 
raised  better  'n  this,"  he  said  to  Vaughan.  "  I  know 
enough  to  realize  that  whisky  'n  religion  don't  go 
well  together." 

Delivered  from  an  inappropriate  background, 
Vaughan  took  his  place  at  the  organ  and  began  to 
sing.  Three  or  four  other  musical  instruments  which 
had  filled  the  room  with  a  discordant  din  gave  way  to 
him,  but  the  fiddle  still  sighed  deprecatingly  through 
the  reel  insisted  upon  by  the  two  or  three  couples  who 
refused  to  give  up  their  dance.  Their  companions 
had  dropped  into  chairs  here  and  there,  or  stood  gaz 
ing  at  the  singer.  A  drunken  miner  joined  in,  the 
maudlin  tears  rolling  down  his  foolish  face.  A  broad- 


A    SERVICE    AT    LOU   PUGH'S          27 

shouldered  cowboy,  with  frank,  young,  kindly  eyes, 
sat  staring  at  the  opposite  wall  as  if  he  saw  some  ap 
parition  there.  The  gamblers  at  the  card-tables 
played  on,  deaf  and  blind  to  everything  except  their 
game.  Vaughan  preached  and  then  he  prayed, 
simply,  gravely,  with  unmistakable  sincerity.  The 
other  dancers  stopped,  the  fiddle  ceased.  Again  the 
organ  and  the  singer  led  the  way  into  the  melody  of 
an  old-fashioned  hymn.  Everyone  in  the  room  fol 
lowed,  except  the  gamblers.  They  kept  on  with  their 
game. 

"  Now,"  said  Lou,  remounting  the  chair  behind  the 
bar,  "  the  Parson's  give  us  a  first-rate  song-and- 
dance,  and  we  want  to  do  the  square  thing.  Who'll 
pass  the  hat?  " 

The  cowboy  with  the  kindly  eyes  volunteered  and 
went  from  group  to  group  with  his  sombrero,  not  even 
slighting  the  card-tables.  When  he  emptied  the  hat 
upon  the  bar,  gold,  silver,  and  red,  blue  and  white 
discs  rolled  out. 

"Them  are  good  for  five  dollars,  and  three,  and 
one,"  said  Lou  when  Vaughan  would  have  pushed 
aside  the  discs.  "  Don't  ye  know  poker  chips  ?  "  He 
smiled  commiseratingly.  The  innocence  of  the  youth 
touched  him.  "  If  you'd  like  to  sleep  here  to 
night "  he  began  hospitably. 

"  Why,  yes,  thank  you,"  said  Vaughan.  He  had 
an  idea,  poor  fellow,  that  he  could  keep  these  wild 
beasts  on  the  leash,  curb,  control  them.  They  would 


28  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

not  resume  their  orgies,  he  thought,  while  he,  the 
Parson,  was  so  near.  He  told  Henley,  and  Henley 
told  the  Judge,  and  the  two  left,  not  seeing  their  way 
clear  to  undeceiving  him. 

Lou  led  the  way  upstairs.  Here,  as  below,  there 
was  one  huge  room.  It  was  divided  by  muslin  cur 
tains  strung  on  wires.  Into  one  of  the  compartments 
Vaughan  followed  his  guide.  It  contained  three 
beds.  In  one  of  them  a  drunken  miner  snored  loudly, 
on  the  outside  of  the  second  a  cowboy  was  sleeping 
with  his  boots  on.  Vaughan  sat  down  on  the  edge  of 
the  third  and  waited  till  he  should  be  alone. 

Before  the  saloon-keeper  had  descended  the  stairs 
Bedlam  again  broke  loose,  ten  times  as  violent,  ten 
times  as  reckless  of  consequences  as  before.  The 
fiddle  squeaked,  the  dancers  shuffled  and  stamped, 
dice  rattled,  cards  clicked,  the  roulette-wheel  whirled 
its  ball.  Oaths,  foul  talk,  the  calls  of  the  gamblers, 
shrill  laughter  more  horrible  than  cries  of  pain  pene 
trated  the  thin  floor.  There  was  an  angry  ejacula 
tion  answered  savagely.  A  gambler  had  been  caught 
cheating.  Someone  called  sharply,  "  Look  out !  " 
There  was  a  long,  sobbing  sigh  and  something  fell 
heavily. 

Then*  there  were  hurried  directions,  "Lay  him 
down!"  "Go,  fetch  Dr.  Addison!"  "Take  him 
upstairs  ! "  And  many  feet  climbed  up  stumblingly. 

Vaughan  met  them.  "  Take  him  in  here,"  he  di 
rected.  "  Put  him  on  my  bed." 


A    SERVICE    AT    LOU    PITCH'S          29 

It  was  the  cowboy  with  the  kindly  eyes.  He  had  a 
knife-wound  in  his  side.  The  doctor  came  running. 

"Bring  a  basin  of  wat^r,  and  cloths,"  he  ordered. 
His  quick  glance  traveled  over  the  bloated  faces  and 
bleared  eyes  around  him  till  he  came  to  Vaughan. 
"  You'll  have  to  help  me,"  he  said  briefly. 

Vaughan  caught  at  the  bed-post.  The  room  was 
growing  dark.  He  snatched  at  one  of  the  towels 
the  barkeeper  was  fetching,  dipped  it  in  the  pitcher  of 
iced  water  and  wrapped  it  about  his  neck. 

His  hand  was  steadier  than  the  surgeon's  now.  Be 
tween  them  they  bandaged  the  wound  and  stopped  the 
flow  of  blood. 

"What's  your  name?  "  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  Vaughan.     And  yours  ?  " 

"  Addison.     I  hope  we  shall  meet  again." 

"  I  hope  so." 

They  shook  hands  and  parted.  Vaughan  drew  the 
one  chair  to  the  window  and  looked  down  into  the 
street.  A  bonfire  had  been  kindled.  The  flames 
crackled  and  roared,  and  danced  with  the  shadows. 
In  the  glare  Vaughan  saw  a  miner  asleep  in  a  chair 
by  the  door  of  the  saloon.  Someone  else  had  seen 
him,  another  miner  chuckling  like  a  fiend  over  what 
he  was  about  to  do.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  short, 
round  stick,  to  the  end  of  which  a  string  was  attached. 
He  laid  it  under  the  chair  and  set  a  match  to  it.  The 
dynamite  exploded  downwards  with  a  loud  report. 
The  sleeping  man  awoke  with  a  yell,  unhurt  but 


30          THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

terrified.  The  dancers  ran  out  and  screamed  with 
him,  then  ran  back  to  drink  and  dance  once  more. 

And  these  were  the  men  and  women  for  whom 
Christ  died !  thought  the  watcher  by  the  window.  Hell 
seemed  to  him  to  yawn  before  their  willful  feet,  as 
real  as  the  bonfire  in  the  street.  Who  would  save 
them?  Who  would  save  this  wounded  boy  sobbing 
and  sighing  in  his  sleep? 

To  Clement  Vaughan  there  was  but  one  answer. 
The  cry  of  the  young  Isaiah  rose  to  his  lips,  "  Here 
am  I,  send  me ! " 

"  Touch  my  lips  with  a  live  coal  from  off  thine 
altar,"  he  prayed. 

Dawn  was  beginning,  the  clear,  cool,  bright  Nevada 
dawn.  It  bathed  him  where  he  stood,  anointing  him 
with  its  white  fire;  brow,  lips  and  pleading  hands. 
And  a  great  peace  filled  him,  the  peace  of  one  whose 
prayer  is  heard,  whose  sacrifice  is  accepted. 

It  was  still  early  when  Henley  brought  the  horses 
around  to  the  door  of  the  saloon.  They  walked  away 
into  the  freshness  of  the  morning,  lifting  their  heads 
as  they  drank  it  in.  No  questions  were  asked,  no  con 
fidences  were  vouchsafed  until  the  little  Galena  settle 
ment  came  in  view.  Then  Vaughan  said  briefly, 
"Frank,  I  feel  that  I  have  been  called  to  do  a  work 
here,  among  these  people." 

"  Better  write  to  Delia  before  you  decide  that 
matter,"  Frank  replied. 

Mary  was  standing  in  the  doorway  watching  for 


A    SERVICE    AT    LOU   PUGH'S          31 

them.  They  threw  their  bridles  to  the  Indian  who 
helped  Frank  in  his  stable  and  went  on  up  the  steps. 

Mary  hardly  saw  her  husband.  She  was  studying 
Clement's  face.  It  was  the  face  of  an  old  man,  lined 
and  seamed. 

He  stretched  out  his  hands  to  her  with  a  pathetic 
gesture.  She  caught  them  and  clasped  them  to  her. 
"  You  have  decided " 

"  To  do  the  work,  Mary,"  he  said  simply,  and  she 
ejaculated: 

"Thank  God!" 

"  Better  write  to  Delia  first,"  said  Frank,  passing 
on  into  the  house. 

"  I'm  going  to  write  to  her  to-night,"  said 
Vaughan. 

Delia  was  his  wife. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SENT    TO    EUREKA 

IT  was  not  Mary  Henley's  way  to  wait  when  she 
had  made  up  her  mind.  While  Vaughan  was 
writing  to  Delia,  she  wrote  to  John  Harman, 
Superintendent  of  Missions  at  Carson  City,  telling 
him  certain  things  she  felt  it  was  well  for  him  to 
know  about  her  friend  Clement  Vaughan ;  and  the  two 
letters  went  out  to  the  mailbag  together. 

Frank  walked  uneasily  to  and  fro  while  the  letters 
were  being  written.  "  Don't  put  it  too  strong, 
Clement,"  he  urged ;  "  Be  careful,  Mary,  what  you 
say,"  and  the  two  scribes  answered,  "  Yes,"  absent- 
mindedly,  and  went  on,  giving  expression  to  their 
full  hearts. 

Within  a  week  John  Harman  was  at  Galena  an 
swering  Mary's  letter  in  person.  There  was  no  time 
to  be  lost  in  a  thing  of  this  kind,  and  he  was  short  of 
men.  At  Lewis  he  encountered  Judge  Weaver,  who 
told  him  more  about  the  young  man.  It  was  already 
pretty  well  settled  in  Harman's  mind  where  he  would 
place  Vaughan  if  he  proved  all  these  enthusiastic 
people  thought.  Eureka  was  just  the  opening  for  a 
live,  zealous,  energetic,  devoted  young  missionary. 

He  would  find  plenty  to  do.  Things  had  been  going 
38 


SENT    TO    EUREKA  33 

wrong  at  Eureka  for  the  last  six  or  eight  years ;  no 
regular  members,  no  salary  except  that  provided  by 
the  mission  fund,  and  strong  opposition.  Everybody 
who  was  anything  went  to  the  Episcopal  and  Baptist 
churches.  Vaughan  ought  to  be  able  to  draw  his 
share  of  these.  So  he  mused,  and  saw  coming  down 
the  ravine  the  man  whom  he  sought. 

A  week  of  Nevada  air  and  exercise  had  obliterated 
in  Vaughan  traces  of  his  journey  and  of  the  experi 
ence  at  Lewis,  and  the  steadjdng  effect  of  his  new 
resolution  was  apparent  in  voice  and  gait.  As  he 
came  swinging  down  the  mountain  road,  singing  to 
himself,  he  brought  with  him  a  fine  flavor  of  youthful 
purpose  and  God-given  charm. 

The  heart  of  the  Superintendent  of  Missions 
warmed  to  him.  Men  occasionally  experience  towards 
each  other  the  sensation  termed  between  the  sexes 
Love-at-first-sight.  Sympathy,  confidence,  affection 
even  were  kindled  in  behalf  of  the  young  man  who 
stepped  so  lightly,  sang  so  joyously,  and  when  he 
gave  his  hand  gave  something  with  it  which  inspired 
and  strengthened. 

As  he  walked  along  by  the  horse,  answering  Har- 
man's  questions,  putting  others,  the  Superintendent 
began  to  feel  like  a  father  towards  him  and  to  say 
mentally,  "  This  boy's  too  good  to  be  sacrificed  to 
Eureka." 

When  they  reached  Frank  Henley's,  he  threw  his 
leg  over  the  horse's  back  and  sat  there,  sideways. 


34          THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

Vaughan  waited  inquiringly. 

"  There  is  a  place  at  Virginia  City,"  said  the 
Superintendent  confidentially;  "four  thousand  and 
the  parsonage.  How  would  you  like  to  go  there?  " 

Vaughan's  eyes  sparkled.  Even  Delia  would  be 
satisfied  with  four  thousand  and  a  parsonage.  But — 
was  this  the  work  to  which  he  had  vowed  himself  in 
the  white  dawn  at  Lewis?  Again  the  scenes  of  that 
hellish  night  rose  before  him :  the  drinking,  dancing, 
quarreling  horde,  the  wounded  man  sobbing  and  sigh 
ing  in  his  sleep,  the  glare  of  the  bonfire,  the  drunken 
miner  with  the  dynamite.  Again  he  heard  the  oaths, 
the  ribald  talk,  the  explosion,  the  screams,  and  again 
he  said  to  himself,  "  These  are  the  men  and  women  for 
whom  Christ  died." 

"Perhaps  you'd  rather  think  it  over,"  suggested 
the  Superintendent,  noting  the  young  preacher's 
hesitation. 

"  No,  sir ;  I  can  give  you  my  answer  now,"  returned 
Vaughan  steadily.  "  There'll  be  enough  to  take  such 
a  place  as  that.  Send  me  where  no  one  else  will  go." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Superintendent,  relieved. 
"  We'll  send  you  to  Eureka." 

That  night  Clement  wrote  again  to  Delia,  more 
fully  than  before.  Exulting  that  his  own  heart  had 
not  failed,  he  gave  hers  a  chance.  He  told  her  what 
he  had  done,  how  he  had  refused  the  easy  place  and 
the  big  pay,  and  had  chosen  the  hard  place  with  no 
pay  worth  mentioning,  and  appealed  to  her  as  his 


SENT    TO    EUREKA 


wife,  his  helpmate,  to  join  him  in  the  sacrifice,  de 
voting  her  life,  as  he  had  devoted  his,  to  the  further 
ing  of  the  work.  When  he  had  finished  and  reread 
his  letter  he  did  not  see  how  anyone,  man  or  woman, 
could  resist  those  burning  words.  Mary  Henley,  to 
whom  he  intrusted  the  contents,  felt  as  he  did.  He 
did  not  take  Frank  into  his  confidence. 

The  men  at  Galena  spoke  approvingly  of  the  stand 
Vaughan  had  taken.  They  said  he  was  "  onto  his 
job."  The  women  made  of  him  a  hero — especially 
Minnie  Hollaway.  She  would  have  liked  to  have  him 
take  her  life  in  his  hands  and  shape  it,  tell  her  exactly 
what  she  should  and  should  not  do.  When  he  did  not 
accept  the  opportunities  she  gave  him  to  do  this,  she 
went  at  the  matter  point-blank. 

"  Mr.  Vaughan,"  she  said  one  morning,  when  the 
Henleys  were  preparing  for  a  day-long  drive,  and 
Minnie  and  the  Parson  were  alone  in  the  sitting-room 
together,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  something  very  impor 
tant." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  help  you,  if  I  can,"  re 
turned  Vaughan  gravely. 

"  Do  you  think  a  girl  ought  to  marry  a  man  when 
she  doesn't  love  him?"  pursued  Minnie.  "There's 
Martin  Young — I  don't  know  why  I  should  make 
any  secret  of  it,  he  doesn't — he  thinks  he  could  make 
me  care,  but  I  don't  think  so.  And  I  do  like  William 
Dower,  if  he  is  only  a  miner." 

"  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  marry  on  any  other  basis 


36  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

than  that  of  affection,"  said  Vaughan  loftily,  and  be 
gan  a  discourse  on  love,  marriage,  and  the  respon 
sibilities  of  life,  which  more  than  satisfied  Minnie's 
expectations. 

The  Henleys  interrupted  him  with  farewells  and 
orders  for  the  day,  but  Clement  had  already  said 
some  very  good  things  of  which  he  made  a  mental 
note  for  future  use. 

Minnie  took  every  word  as  gospel  truth,  to  be  fol 
lowed  to  the  letter.  When  the  men  came  in  for  dinner 
she  snubbed  Martin  so  openly,  so  openly  favored  Wil 
liam  and  so  plainly  looked  to  Vaughan  for  approval 
that  Martin  was  not  slow  to  place  the  responsibility 
where  it  belonged,  and  said  to  himself,  "  He  done  it; 
he  put  her  up  to  it,  damn  him !  I'll  get  square  with 
him!  " 

After  dinner  he  gathered  all  the  idlers  in  the  place 
and  promised  them  some  fun.  He  was  going  to  offer 
to  give  Black  Birdie  to  the  Parson  if  he  would  ride 
her. 

"  Black  Birdie !  "  exclaimed  Jo ;  "  do  you  think  the 
Parson's  a  fool?" 

"  She  broke  the  cinch  when  Jack  Henshaw  was 
trying  to  break  her,"  said  Tim. 

"  What  she  needs,"  returned  Martin,  "  is  a  nice 
p'lite-spoken  gent  like  the  Parson.  She  don't  take  to 
no  vaquero.  Tim,  you  throw  a  saddle  over  her  and 
bring  her  a-f ront  of  the  store.  I'll  have  the  Parson 
along  in  a  jiffy." 


SENT    TO    EUREKA  37 

"  Betcher  he  won't  come !  "  said  Jo. 

"  Take  ye,"  said  Tim. 

"  What'll  ye  make  it?     Come  now !  " 

Betting  became  lively,  first  as  to  whether  the  Par 
son  would  come,  second  as  to  which  would  win.  Here 
odds  were  all  on  the  horse. 

While  they  discussed  the  subject  Martin  and  the 
Parson  appeared  on  Henley's  stoop,  while  Tim 
brought  to  the  front  of  the  store  the  curveting,  danc 
ing,  plunging  creature,  black  and  lustrous  as  a  bit  of 
coal. 

If  Vaughan  had  been  inclined  to  hesitate,  all 
scruples  vanished  when  he  saw  the  horse. 

"  What  a  beauty ! "  he  cried  and  bounded  across 
the  street.  Martin  sauntered  after,  winking  first 
one  eye  and  then  the  other  at  the  conspirators,  as  they 
stood  around  grinning. 

Black  Birdie  continued  to  prance,  and  to  pull  Tim 
this  way  and  that.  The  sunlight  rippled  over  her 
dazzling  flanks,  her  quivering  nostrils  showed  their 
scarlet  lining,  her  great  eyes  rolled  from  side  to 
side.  Everything  she  saw  sent  great  shuddering 
waves  of  terror  and  resistance  through  her  sensitive 
bod}'. 

"  Blindfold  her ! "  called  Martin,  and  one  of  the 
men  whipped  out  a  handkerchief  and  tied  it  over  the 
restless  eyes. 

"  Now,  Parson,"  he  said  encouragingly,  "  git  on — • 
if  you  dass  to." 


38  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  If  I "  Vaughan  ended  with  a  leap  which 

landed  him  on  Black  Birdie's  tail. 

The  onlookers  roared  with  delight. 

Nerved  to  supreme  effort  by  their  derision,  he 
made  another  spring  and  this  time  gained  the 
saddle. 

"  Let  her  go ! "  he  directed.  The  men  obeyed, 
whipping  off  the  bandage. 

With  great  leaps  the  terrified  animal  bounded  for 
ward.  Reaching  the  slope  of  the  canyon,  she  clam 
bered  straight  up  its  almost  perpendicular  sides, 
her  iron-shod  hoofs  ringing  against  the  rocks. 
Vaughan  clung  to  the  horn  of  the  saddle,  his  coat- 
tails  floating  out  behind.  Up,  up  went  the  horse, 
snorting  and  struggling,  then  suddenly  stopped  and 
shook  like  an  aspen. 

"  Go  on ! "  shouted  Vaughan.  Hoarse  shouts  an 
swered  him  from  below.  The  crowd  was  beginning 
to  sympathize  and  applaud. 

"  Hang  to  it,  Parson !  »  they  called.  "  Stick  to 
her!" 

Black  Birdie  wheeled  and  looked  down  the  way  she 
had  come,  shivering. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  down  ?  "  asked  the  rider.  "  All 
right,  we'll  go  down." 

Still  quivering,  the  mare  sank  upon  her  haunches. 
Up  went  the  Parson's  long  legs  upon  her  neck,  arid 
so  together,  horse  and  man,  they  slid  down  the  side  of 
the  canyon. 


SENT    TO    EUREKA  39 

Below,  the  excitement  intensified.  When  Black 
Birdie  reached  the  level,  the  pair  were  at  once  sur 
rounded,  but  they  broke  through  the  ring  and  went 
clattering  down  the  road. 

"There  goes  your  horse,  Mart,"  said  Tim,  and 
they  all  damned  the  Methodist  approvingly  for  a 
first-rate  horseman ! 

While  they  stood  there  Minnie  Hollaway  came 
running  down  the  road.  "  You  just  wait  till  my 
uncle  gets  home,  Martin  Young,"  she  called  indig 
nantly.  "He'll  attend  to  you"  Then  she  turned 
and  ran  back  to  the  house  before  anyone  could 
stop  her. 

Vaughan  was  by  this  time  halfway  down  the 
canyon.  He  burst  upon  the  astonished  Henleys  as 
they  came  slowly  up  the  ravine,  his  dark  hair  flying, 
his  black  beard  blown  about  him  like  a  veil. 

"  What  on  earth !  "  began  Henley. 

Vaughan  wheeled  and  reined  in  beside  the  buck- 
board. 

"My  horse!"  he  cried  jubilantly.  "Martin 
Young  said  I  might  have  her  if  I'd  ride  her.  We 
climbed  up  the  mountain  and  tobogganed  down." 

"  I'll  be  darned !  "  exclaimed  Henley. 

"  Let's  see  you  make  her  go ! "  shrilled  the  little 
girls.  Mary  said  nothing,  but  clasped  the  sleeping 
Sonia  to  her,  looking  grave.  Could  this  be  the  man 
who  had  returned  from  Lewis,  worn  and  bowed  with 
the  realization  of  what  he  had  seen  there? 


40  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  How  do  you  like  my  new  horse,  Mary  ?  "  pur 
sued  Clement,  determined  to  make  her  speak. 

"  Of  course  you  can't  have  her  in  Eureka,"  she 
answered. 

"  That'll  be  all  right.  I'll  take  care  of  her  until 
you're  ready  for  her,"  said  Frank.  His  respect  for 
Clement  had  measurably  increased. 

After  supper  he  beckoned  the  young  man  into  the 
deserted  dining-room.  "  I've  been  thinking,"  he  said 
in  a  low  voice,  "  before  you  go  I  ought  to  give  you 

a  few  lessons  in "  he  glanced  cautiously  up  and 

down  the  hall  before  he  added,  "  boxing.  Eureka's 
a  pretty  tough  place.  You  don't  carry  a  '  shooting- 
iron,'  and  it's  a  good  thing  to  be  prepared  to 
defend  yourself."  He  closed  the  dining-room  door 
and  from  a  lower  drawer  in  the  sideboard  brought 
out  the  gloves. 

Clement  drew  on  the  pair  handed  him  and 
"  squared  off." 

"  You've  seen  these  things  before,"  exclaimed  Hen 
ley  suspiciously. 

"  Only  seen  them.  Father  wouldn't  let  us  fight 
when  we  were  boys.  Come  on."  Clement  danced 
towards  him. 

Henley  "  came  on,"  tenderly  at  first,  but  growing 
freer,  as  his  opponent  proved  his  ability  and  willing 
ness  to  give  hard  hits  and  take  them. 

"  You  put  up  a  fair  game,"  he  said  as  they  stood 
facing  each  other  and  panting,  after  the  first  bout. 


SENT    TO    EUREKA  41 

"  Now  I'll  show  you  a  trick  which  will  help  you  out 
of  any  tight  scrape  you  may  get  into.  When  you 
find  your  opponent  is  getting  the  better  of  you,  give 
him  the  rabbit  hit,  this  way."  Henley  rapidly  pawed 
the  air,  hand  over  hand,  and  finished  by  tapping  his 
adversary  lightly  under  the  chin.  "  Then — land  him, 
see?"  .  '  ,  ' 

"  I  see,"  said  Vaughan. 

"  Now,  then,  try  it.     Come  on.     Ready  ?  ' 

"  Ready,"  and  Clement  advanced. 

It  was  while  he  was  in  this  position,  driving  Henley 
before  him  and  beating  the  air  like  a  maniac,  that  the 
door  opened  and  Mary  appeared  on  the  threshold. 

"  Clement !    Frank !  "  she  called  reproachfully. 

They  turned.  Frank  looked  confused,  but  Clement 
went  straight  up  to  her. 

"Didn't  I  do  that  well?"  he  asked,  kissing  her.* 
"  Frank  has  been  teaching  me  '  the  manly  art  of  self- 
defense.'     I   should  have  given  him  '  the  knock-out 
blow '  in  another  minute,  if  you  hadn't  come  in — not 
a  real  one,  you  know,  but  a  make-believe." 

He  drew  off  his  gloves  and  threw  them  on  the  table. 
"  Come  on,"  he  said,  taking  her  affectionately  by 
the  arm.  "  There's  something  in  one  of  the  magazines 
I  want  to  read  to  you." 

Mary  suffered  herself  to  be  led  back  to  the  sitting- 
room,  silenced  but  far  from  reassured.  It  was  with 
intense  relief  that  she  welcomed  Clement's  formal 
appointment  to  the  Eureka  Mission,  a  few  days  later. 


42  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

The  necessary  preparations  were  soon  made.  His 
library  and  desk  he  had  already  ordered  sent  out  from 
England.  His  other  belongings  were  few  and  unim 
portant.  No  letters  had  yet  come,  in  response  to 
those  that  he  had  written. 

At  last  the  morning  arrived  for  his  departure. 
Three-fourths  of  Galena  were  on  hand  to  see  him  go. 
Frank  sat  in  the  buckboard  which  was  to  convey  them 
to  Battle  Mountain,  watching  the  farewells,  smil 
ing  quizzically  as  he  noted  Minnie's  red  eyes.  There 
was  a  look  of  apprehension  on  Mary's  nun-like  face. 
"  She  doesn't  feel  quite  sure  of  him,  yet,"  thought 
Frank.  "  That  boxing  business,  and  the  horse,  under 
mined  her  confidence. — Come  on,  come  on ! "  he 
called  impatiently,  but  Vaughan  must  shake  hands 
with  each  one  and  give  each  a  special  word. 

"  Come  back  soon !  "  piped  Lilian,  and  Baby  Sonia 
crowed  and  kicked  in  her  mother's  arms  to  get  at 
him.  He  waved  his  hand  to  her,  took  his  seat  beside 
Frank  and  the  horses  dashed  away. 

Two  or  three  days  later  the  letters  came,  a 
bulky  packet,  one  apiece  from  Clement's  father  and 
mother,  one  from  the  old  minister  who  trained  him, 
four  from  Delia.  It  was  easy  to  discern  the  sequence 
of  these  without  looking  at  the  dates  of  mailing.  The 
first  and  second  were  addressed  with  many  flourishes 
to  the  Reverend  Clement  Vaughan.  Respect  and 
deference  were  revealed  in  the  shaping  of  each  word. 
The  third  letter  was  directed  to  "  Clement  Vaughan  " 


SENT    TO    EUREKA  43 

without  title  or  compromise.  The  fourth,  addressed 
to  C.  Vaughan,  Esq.,  said  as  plainly  as  handwriting 
could,  "  You  deserve  as  little  as  possible,  and  that  not 
of  the  best." 

"  Delia  was  pretty  mad  when  she  wrote  that," 
soliloquized  Frank. 

"  I  dread  to  send  it  to  him,"  exclaimed  Mary. 
**  Just  as  he  is  starting — and  all !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  he  can't  expect  anything  else,  under  the 
circumstances.  He'll  have  to  stand  it,"  said  Frank. 
But  he  was  as  well  satisfied  as  she  was,  when  day  after 
day  passed  without  furnishing  an  opportunity  to 
send  the  letter  to  Eureka. 


CHAPTER    V 

THREE    FRIENDS   AND    AN  ENEMY 

JACK  PERRY  stood  in  the  door  of  his 
saloon  and  looked  up  the  street,  swearing 
softly  at  what  he  saw.  Jack  was  not  a  man 
to  swear  indefinitely,  exuberantly,  with  a  long  string 
of  oaths  which  meant  nothing.  Nor  did  he  waste  his 
expletives.  When  Jack  swore  it  was  because  the 
occasion  demanded  it,  as  now. 

What  he  saw  was  the  wide-open  door  of  the  unused 
Methodist  church,  halfway  up  the  hill,  with  a  slender, 
dark-robed  figure  darting  in  and  out. 

"  I'll  be  damned,"  said  Jack,  "  if  he  ain't  settin' 
up  housekeepin'  right  in  the  shop.  Well,  he  means 
to  stay  with  it!  " 

This  was  precisely  what  Vaughan  meant  to  do. 
After  a  two  days'  trial  of  "  the  Widder  McClintock's" 
boarding-house  he  had  decided  to  "  keep  himself," 
and  there  being  a  long,  narrow,  empty  place  in  the 
church  behind  the  audience-room,  he  conceived  the 
idea  of  turning  it  into  a  study  and  bedroom. 

Pending  the  consent  of  the  Superintendent,  to 
whom  he  conscientiously  wrote  at  once,  he  moved  in. 
What  Jack  saw  were  the  final  preparations ;  the  nar- 

44 


THREE    FRIENDS    AND    AN    ENEMY  45 

row  iron  bed,  the  wooden  chair,  a  wash-bowl  and 
pitcher.  '  ' 

"  He  ain't  goin'  in  for  luxuries,"  muttered  Jack ; 
"  but  he  means  to  wash,"  and  he  swore  again. 

The  next  day  a  number  of  packing-boxes  arrived, 
containing  the  books,  the  desk,  and  the  chair,  sent  for 
weeks  ago.  *  '  '  \ 

Vaughan  was  too  busy  to  do  more  than  snatch  a 
hasty  meal  from  the  nearest  grocery,  between  unpack 
ing  and  setting  up  his  books  on  long  shelves  which 
extended  the  entire  length  of  the  apartment  on  both 
sides.  At  one  end,  by  a  window,  stood  the  desk  and 
chair.  The  other  end,  partitioned  off  for  a  bedroom, 
held  the  bed,  the  wooden  chair  and  a  wash-stand, 
the  latter  made  out  of  a  packing-box.  Over  it  he 
had  tacked  some  chintz.  '  ' 

As  he  stood  up  and  stretched  himself,  after  this 
last  fastidious  touch,  he  felt  as  any  living  thing  feels 
when  it  has  made  for  itself  a  home.  He  had  now 
a  shell,  a  covering,  a  castle.  Out  of  it  he  could  go 
to  meet  the  world,  into  it  he  could  retire  when  he 
was  through  with  the  world,  save  such  select  portions 
as  he  might  invite  inside. 

The  two  Sundays  since  he  came  to  Eureka  he  had 
had  respectively  ten  and  twelve  in  the  congregation. 
This  would  never  do.  He  must  plan  some  way  to 
attract  hearers  to  the  searching,  kindling  sermons 
he  meant  to  preach. 

He  walked  out  to  the  front  door  of  the  church  and 


46          THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

looked  down  at  the  saloon,  as  the  owner  of  it  had 
looked  up  at  him.  There  were  enough  people  going 
into  that  place,  he  thought  enviously.  Why  shouldn't 
some  of  them  come  to  him?  He  seized  his  sombrero 
and  hurried  down  the  hill. 

"  Pere  Hyacinthe  "  was  serving  drinks  at  the  bar. 
He  was  not  really  Pere  Hyacinthe,  but  resembled  that 
illustrious  man  so  closely  that  no  one  called  him  any 
thing  else. 

The  Parson  advanced  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  I'm 
Vaughan,  the  new  Methodist  preacher,"  he  announced, 
as  if  Pere  Hyacinthe  ought  to  be  glad  there  was  one 
and  that  this  was  the  man.  "  Are  you  the  pro 
prietor?  " 

Pere  Hyacinthe  shook  his  head.  "  Jack's  in  there," 
he  said,  pointing  to  one  of  the  little  rooms  opening 
into  the  big  one.  He  thought  the  new  preacher  had 
come  to  talk  with  him  about  his  soul  and  he  was  too 
busy  to  enter  upon  any  such  unprofitable  discussion. 
"  Jack,"  he  called,  "  here's  someone  lookin'  for 

ye." 

Jack  came  out  of  the  little  room.  Six-feet-four 
he  stood,  with  shoulders  that  matched  his  height, 
gray-haired,  smooth-shaven,  stooped  a  little,  limped 
a  little,  rheumatism  had  somewhat  crippled  his  hands. 
He  was  no  longer  the  man  who  had  kept  order  in 
Virginia  City  in  the  old  days,  when  to  be  sheriff  in 
such  a  place  meant  killing  somebody  at  frequent  inter 
vals  in  order  to  preserve  the  lives  of  the  rest;  but  he 


THREE  FRIENDS  AND  AN  ENEMY  47 

was  Jack  Perry  still,  and  Vaughan,  without  knowing 
his  history,  felt  its  influence. 

"I'm  Vaughan,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand  as 
he  had  to  Pere  Hyacinthe,  "  the  new  Methodist 
preacher.  I  came  to  ask  if  there  was  any  objection 
to  my  putting  up  a  little  notice  in  your  place,  invit 
ing  the  men  to  my  services  ?  " 

Jack's  eyes  twinkled.  "  I  ain't  never  advertised 
your  sort  o'  wares,"  he  said  in  his  slow  drawl.  "  They 
most  gen'ally  conflict  with  mine." 

"  Everyone  comes  here,"  pursued  Vaughan,  too 
much  in  earnest  to  take  in  the  full  humor  of  the 
situation.  "  There  ought  to  be  a  few  who  would  come 
to  me  once  in  a  while." 

"  Certain,"  said  Jack. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  don't  mind  I'll  run  home  and 
write  out  the  notice  and  come  back  here  and  tack 
it  up." 

"All  right,"  said  Jack,  and  Vaughan  hurried 
away. 

Jack  stood  looking  after  him,  hands  deep  in  his 
trousers  pockets,  chuckling  to  himself,  when  Mat 
Kyle  drew  near.  Mat  was  sheriff  at  Eureka  and  the 
two  were  friends. 

"  What's  so  tarn  funny  ?  "  inquired  Mat,  twisting 
his  short,  fat  neck  to  examine  Jack's  expression. 

It  told  him  nothing  further  than  the  fact  that  Jack 
was  enjoying  himself,  and  he  turned  to  follow  the 
.whimsical  steel-gray  eyes  in  their  journey  up  the 


48  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

street.  Vaughan  was  just  then  disappearing  within 
the  church,  his  long  coat-tails,  as  usual,  flying  out 
behind. 

"  The  Parson?  "  queried  Mat. 

Jack  nodded.  "  He  wants  me  to  advertise  his 
gospel-shop  in  my  saloon.  Sent  here  by  the  Methodys 
to  spile  my  business,  and  will  I  help  him  do  it !  "  Jack 
laughed  aloud. 

"  He's  got  his  gall  with  him,"  commented  Mat. 

"  Don't  say  a  word,"  returned  the  saloon-keeper. 
"  Let  him  work,  let  him  work." 

Vaughan  hurried  down  the  hill,  hammer  and  tacks 
in  one  hand  and  in  the  other  a  neatly  printed  notice, 
which  he  handed  to  Jack.  "  If  you'll  run  your  eye 
over  that,  Mr.  Perry,"  he  said  deferentially. 

Jack  obeyed.  There  was  nothing  to  offend  the 
most  sensitive,  a  mere  statement  of  hours  and 
themes. 

"  That's  all  right,"  he  said,  handing  the  paper 
back  to  the  Methodist.  "  Put  it  where  you  like." 

Vaughan  selected  a  vacant  space  between  the 
picture  of  a  female  with  floating  hair  and  preternat- 
urally  large  eyes,  offering  an  open  box  of  "  Lone 
Star,"  and  a  presentment  of  "  Highland  Whiskies : 
The  Best,"  and  tacked  up  the  notice. 

As  he  stood  back  and  confronted  it,  well  pleased 
with  the  result,  suddenly  the  lowing  of  cattle  was 
heard  in  the  street  and  their  muffled  tread,  then —  the 
cry  of  a  child. 


THREE    FRIENDS    'AND    AN    ENEMY  49 

They  rushed  to  the  door.  Down  the  road  from  the 
Geiger  Grade  poured  a  mass  of  shaggy  heads  and 
tossing  horns. 

"Mart  Young  takin'  steers  to  Shed  Wellman," 
commented  Mat,  and  then,  "  Good  God,  look  at 
that!" 

Straight  in  the  path  of  the  onward-moving,  living 
tide,  a  little  girl  in  a  tricycle  was  doing  her  futile 
best  to  get  out  of  the  way.  Behind  her  a  white- 
capped  maid  screamed  for  help  while  she  pushed  the 
small  vehicle  frantically  along,  adding  her  inadequate 
strength  to  that  of  the  child. 

Jack  and  Mat  sprang  forward,  but  Vaughan  was 
there  before  them.  He  quickly  lifted  the  child  out 
of  the  carriage,  caught  the  maid  by  the  arm  and 
returned  with  them  to  a  place  of  safety. 

The  cattle  surged  past,  followed  by  men  on  horse 
back.  One  of  them  was  Martin  Young.  They  shouted 
hoarsely,  deftly  swinging  their  riatas  as  they  rode 
here  and  there  around  the  drove. 

"  Sure  'tis  Nora  Flynn  that'll  niver  forget  this 
day,"  murmured  the  maid,  straightening  her  cap. 
She  still  held  fast  to  the  tricycle.  A  great  hoof  had 
gone  through  one  of  the  wheels.  "  Nor  you,  sir," 
she  added,  turning  to  Vaughan  with  a  grateful  look. 
"  Say  thank  you  prettily  to  the  gentleman,  Miss 
Elsie,  and  we'll  go  on." 

But  Miss  Elsie  only  wound  her  arms  more  tightly 
around  Vaughan's  neck  and  burrowed  in  liis  beard. 


50  THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

"  I'll  carry  her  home,"  said  Vaughan.  "  She  hasn't 
recovered  from  her  fright  yet.  Where  do  you 
live?  " 

"  On  Richmond  Hill,  sor.  "Tis  quite  a  piece.  An* 
she  a  great  big  five-year-old  gell !  Try,  Miss  Elsie, 
darlin',  if  ye  can't  walk." 

Elsie  only  shook  her  curls  and  looked  obstinate. 

"Go  ahead,"  said  Vaughan  to  the  maid;  "I'll 
carry  her  for  a  while  anyway." 

"  What  Mis'  Chisholm  '11  say,  I  dunno,"  replied 
Nora,  but  she  led  the  way  and  Vaughan  followed. 
"Mis'  Chisholm's  the  little  gell's  mother,"  she 
explained.  "  She  lives  in  that  big  house  that  ye  see 
over  there,  wid  her  brother  Mr.  Sinclair  and  his  wife 
and  little  gell.  An'  Miss  Emmeline — that's  Mis' 
Chisholm's  older  sister — lives  wid  'em." 

"Ah?"  said  Clement. 

"  Yis,  sor.  Mis'  Chisholm  only  been  here  a  year ; 
she  was  a-travelin'  aroun'  since  Mr.  Chisholm  died, 
but  now  she's  come  back  and  fixed  everything  up 
nice,  a  little  glass  house  for  flowers  and  all.  She 
owns  a  half  of  the  Richmond  mine,  and  so  does  her 
brother.  He's  superintendent  along  o'  Mr.  Eugene 
Wilkins." 

"  Ah  ?  "  said  Vaughan  again. 

"  'Tis  a  nice  place,  sor,  the  nicest  hereabouts.  And 
they're  nice  folks,  too.  I  haven't  been  living  wid  'em 
long.  I  belong  in  Eureka.  There's  two  gells  Mis' 
Chisholm  brought,  and  Jerry  Flynn — he's  my  cousin 


THREE  FRIENDS  AND  AN  ENEMY  51 

• — works  there,  too. — Don't  ye  think  ye  could  walk 
up  the  hill,  Miss  Elsie,  darlin'?  " 

But  the  small  despot  only  tightened  her  grip  on 
Clement's  coat  collar. 

"  Her  mother  will  think  somethin'  has  happened," 
fretted  Nora.  "  There  she  comes  now !  " 

The  door  of  the  large,  attractive  house  before  them 
opened  and  a  charming  figure  in  a  clinging  mauve 
gown  flew  down  the  hill. 

"  What  is  it !  "  cried  a  shrill,  sweet  voice.  "  Elsie, 
dearest ! " 

She  caught  the  child  out  of  Vaughan's  arms. 

"  She  ain't  hurted,  mum,"  insisted  Nora.  "  Tell 
her  ye  ain't  hurted,  Miss  Elsie.  She  ain't  hurted, 
is  she,  sor?" 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Vaughan,  removing  his  hat. 

The  lady  seemed  to  see  him  for  the  first  time. 
"  You  were  very  kind  to  bring  my  child  home,"  she 
said  graciously.  "What  happened?"  Her  glance 
fell  on  the  tricycle.  "  Oh,  there  has  been  some  ter 
rible  accident ! " 

"  Only  to  the  machine,"  said  Vaughan  soothingly. 
"  The  little  girl  is  unhurt.  She  was  frightened,  that 
was  all." 

Again  the  lady  looked  at  him  with  slow,  curious 
gaze.  What  she  saw  apparently  pleased  her.  She 
held  out  a  firm  white  hand  and  smiled  as  she  said, 
"  From  the  motions  my  maid  has  been  going  through 
behind  your  back  I  am  convinced  you've  been  doing 


52  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

some  fine,  heroic  thing  for  which  you  do  not  wish  to 
be  thanked."  She  turned  to  the  child.  "Elsie, 
can't  you  introduce  me  to  your  new  friend  ?  " 

"  I  am  Clement  Vaughan,  very  much  at  your  serv 
ice,  madam,"  he  said  quickly. 

"And  I  am  Mrs.  Katharine  Chisholm.  If  you 
will  allow  this  young  lady  to  bring  you  into  the 

house "  Elsie's  tiny  fingers  still  clutched  his 

coat. 

"  Not  to-day,  thank  you."  He  took  the  child's 
hand  in  his.  "  Not  now,  my  little  friend.  Some  day." 

He  transferred  the  child's  hand  to  her  mother's, 
again  lifted  his  hat  and  took  his  leave. 

"  He's  a  rale  gintlemon,"  began  Nora  Flynn,  "  and 
bould  as  a  lion."  At  last  she  could  tell  her  story. 

Katharine  repeated  it,  with  embellishments  of  her 
own,  that  evening,  when  the  men  came  in — her  brother 
Arthur,  Ned  Wilkins,  the  Assistant  Superintendent; 
Frederic  Haverford,  the  young-old  Episcopal  clergy 
man,  and  Eugene  Winslow,  "  the  only  lawyer  in 
the  place,"  his  friends  declared,  though  Sam  Barker, 
the  founder  of  the  D.  P.  I.,  practiced  when  he  was 
sober. 

Mabel  Sinclair,  Arthur's  wife,  came  down  later, 
looking  like  a  Sir  Joshua  portrait  in  her  artificially 
simple  white  gown,  with  her  mist  of  soft  dark  hair 
and  dreamy  eyes ;  and  Miss  Emmeline  Sinclair,  the 
spinster  sister,  dainty  as  a  bit  of  rare  porcelain  in  her 
faint,  faded  prettiness. 


THREE    FRIENDS    AND    AN    ENEMY  53 

There  was  hardly  an  evening  when  these  seven  did 
not  meet  in  the  pleasant  parlors  on  Richmond  Hill. 
Sometimes  Katharine  and  Mabel  played  and  sang, 
sometimes  Haverford  joined  them  at  the  piano, 
occasionally  they  had  cards ;  of tenest,  as  on  this 
occasion,  they  talked  of  what  had  happened  during 
the  day. 

To-night  there  was  but  one  topic  for  discussion, 
the  rescue  of  Elsie  and  the  maid,  set  forth  in  glowing 
colors  by  Katharine.  Each  one  of  the  company  in 
turn  made  use  of  the  opportunity  to  have  some  fun 
at  her  expense. 

"  You'll  lose  your  *  leading  lady  member,'  Haver- 
ford,"  laughed  Arthur  Sinclair.  "  Kate  will  go 
straight  over  to  the  Methodists." 

"  I'm  crazy  to  see  him,"  exclaimed  Mabel.  "  After 
Kate's  description." 

"  How  did  she  describe  him?  "  cried  a  chorus  of 
voices. 

A  warning  glance  shot  from  Katharine's  gray  eyes 
into  her  sister-in-law's  meek  brown  ones. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  tell,  Kitty.  You  needn't  look 
at  me  like  that !  "  said  Mabel. 

"Have  you  seen  him?"  inquired  Miss  Sinclair  of 
Eugene  Winslow. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Winslow,  with  the  little  twitch  of 
the  upper  lip  which  denoted  in  him  some  sarcasm 
coming. 

He  petted  his  black  mustache  before  he  continued, 


54  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  I  see  him  every  day.  He  does  light  housekeep 
ing  in  the  back  of  the  church.  Haverford  calls 
him "  He  looked  at  the  clergyman  before  pro 
ceeding. 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Haverford. 

"  «  The  Sage  Brush  Parson,'  "  finished  Winslow. 

"  That's  not  bad,"  continued  Arthur,  but  Katha 
rine  colored. 

"  Aren't  you  all  '  Sage  Brush  Parsons  '  ?  "  she  de 
manded  of  Haverford. 

"  Ah,  but  he  gwovels  in  it,"  exclaimed  Haverford, 
whose  r's  escaped  him  when  he  became  excited.  "  He 
spwinkles  himself  with  it,  as  the  Romanists  spwinkle 
themselves  with  ashes.  The  rest  of  us  do  brush  our 
clothes ! "  he  glanced  over  his  immaculate  person  and 
flecked  a  bit  of  lint  from  his  sleeve. 

"  And  I  don't  see  why  a  man  should  take  pride  in 
not  shaving,"  Winslow  continued  with  that  sinister 
twitch  of  the  lip.  "  Perhaps  it  wasn't  convenient 
where  he  came  from,  or  customary." 

"  He  came  from  England,"  said  Wilkins  quietly. 
"  He  is  an  educated  man  and  a  gentleman." 

Katharine  gave  the  speaker  a  grateful  glance. 
Under  its  influence  he  went  on. 

"  I've  had  several  talks  with  him.  He  is  peculiar, 
but  he's  quite  a  genius  in  his  way,  a  good  deal  of  a 
musician." 

"  No  doubt  the  fellow's  all  right,"  granted  Haver 
ford. 


THREE    FRIENDS    AND    AN    ENEMY  55 

"  If  you  want  that  kind,"  finished  Winslow. 

"  How  horrid  you  all  are !  "  exclaimed  Katharine, 
going  to  the  piano.  "  I'm  going  to  play  you  into 
another  mood." 

Winslow  sprang  to  turn  her  music,  as  he  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  doing  of  late,  but  she  beckoned  Wilkins 
to  her.  For  the  first  time  in  months  the  young  lawyer 
left  the  house  without  the  private,  personal  word 
which  had  given  each  day  its  meaning.  Yet  Katha 
rine  had  put  on  that  mauve  gown  because  he  liked 
it  and  she  was  wearing  his  flowers  at  her  belt. 

"  What  was  it  that  Kitty  said  to  you  about  the 
Methodist,  Mabel?  "  inquired  Arthur,  when  he  was 
alone  with  his  wife.  "How  did  she  describe  him  to 
you?" 

Mabel  shook  her  hair  about  her  face.  "  I'll  never 
tell  you,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  you  will,"  he  replied,  drawing  the  soft  locks 
together  under  her  chin  and  kissing  her ;  "  you'll 
tell  me  now." 

Mabel  shook  her  head.  "  Why  do  you  care?  You 
men  are  so  curious!" 

"Why  shouldn't  I  care?     She's  my  sister." 

He  looked  singularly  like  her  at  that  moment,  with 
the  steady,  far-away  stare  of  his  blue-gray  eyes  and 
the  little  frown  emphasizing  the  level  line  of  the 
brows. 

"  I'd  hate  to  see  you  two  pulling  different  ways," 
commented  Mabel,  drawing  one  taper  finger  over  the 


56  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

frown,  which  immediately  gave  way  to  a  dazzling 
smile. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  snapping  at  the  finger  like  a 
trout  at  a  fly. 

She  hesitated. 

"  Don't  tell  me  unless  you  want  to,"  he  said,  turning- 
away  sensitively.  "  Don't  tell  me  anything  unless 
you  want  to." 

"  Arthur !  You  know  I  want  to  tell  you  every 
thing.  I  thought  Kitty  would  be  angry,  but  she 
might  know  I'd  tell  you.  She  said  that  he  '  might 
have  been  Tristram  on  his  way  to  Iseult  or  a  Holy 
Father  with  the  Sacrament.  She  believed  he  could  be 
both.' — There,  now,  I  don't  know  what  she'll  do  to 
me  if  she  ever  finds  it  out!" 

"  She  never  will,"  said  Arthur.  A  strange,  troubled 
look  had  crossed  his  face.  He  had  quite  forgotten 
his  other  question. 

In  Jack  Perry's  saloon  also  the  rescue  and  the 
rescuer  were  prominent  in  the  discussions  that 
evening. 

Vaughan  had  made  three  friends;  the  child,  the 
sheriff  and  the  saloon-keeper.  Katharine's  feelings 
towards  him  were  not  those  of  friendship,  even  from 
the  first,  a  fact  which,  being  recognized  by  Mr. 
Eugene  Winslow,  made  of  him  from  the  first  an 
enemy. 


CHAPTER    VI 

GATHERING    A    CONGREGATION 

Y  I  ^HE    notice    in    Jack    Perry's    saloon    should 

^<  have  brought  a  larger  congregation  the 
following  Sunday,  but  only  thirteen  came — 
an  ominous  number.  Vaughan  lay  awake  all  that 
night  thinking  of  what  he  would  do  next. 

It  was  certainly  disheartening,  to  work  hard  all  the 
week  preparing  his  sermons  and  then  have  so  few  to 
hear  them.  Something  must  be  done.  He  was  there 
to  preach  to  the  people.  Somehow  or  other  they  must 
be  made  to  hear  him. 

During  the  week  he  revolved  a  number  of  plans  in 
his  head  and,  when  Sunday  came,  proceeded  to  carry 
out  the  one  which  seemed  to  him  the  most  promising. 

The  main  street  of  the  city  followed  the  course 
of  the  canyon.  The  descent  was  abrupt ;  the  stores, 
saloons  and  dwelling-houses  rose  in  steps  from  the 
lower  part  of  the  town  to  the  upper.  The  church 
was  on  a  side  street  built  against  the  hill.  At  the 
juncture  of  this  with  the  main  street  was  Jack 
Perry's  saloon.  On  the  opposite  corner  was  Jack 
son's,  with  six  or  seven  steps  leading  to  the  sidewalk. 
From  the  corner  of  the  sidewalk,  covered  by  a  porch 

57 


58  THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

belonging  to  the  saloon,  one  could  command  the  lower 
part  of  the  street,  as  from  an  elevated  platform.  It 
was  here  that  Vaughan  determined  to  hold  his  evening 
service. 

The  wondering  permission  of  Jackson  was  ob 
tained,  and,  dashing  into  Jack  Perry's,  the  young 
preacher  asked  for  help  to  bring  the  organ  from  the 
church. 

"  Here,  you,  Dick,  Tom "  called  Jack. 

Dick  lounged  forward  with  a  smile.  "  I  reckon  ye 
don't  remember  me,  Parson,"  he  said  winningly. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Vaughan.  "  Are  you  quite  well 
again  ?  " 

"  Sure,"  was  the  answer.  It  was  the  cowboy  with 
the  kindly  eyes  who  had  been  stabbed  in  Lou  Pugh's 
saloon  that  night  when  the  service  was  held  at  Lewis. 

Four  other  men,  Jack  one  of  them,  followed  the 
preacher  to  the  church.  The  organ  was  brought  out 
and  carried  to  Jackson's  corner,  Vaughan  himself 
helping. 

To  hear  music  on  the  streets  of  Eureka  was  not 
unusual;  guitars,  banjos  thrummed  merrily  from 
open  doorways,  harps  and  violins  sighed  unseen,  a 
brass  band  now  and  then  paraded  noisily,  but  nothing 
like  this  far-reaching,  insistent  voice,  at  one  with 
the  organ,  had  been  heard  before. 

"  What  t'  hell ! "  cried  one  and  another  in  Jack 
Perry's,  and  pushed  their  way  out  of  the  door  to 
look. 


GATHERING    A    CONGREGATION       59 

"  Jackson's  got  someone  singin'  fer  him,  to  draw," 
they  said.  Heads  appeared  at  windows.  Little 
groups  of  men  and  women  strolled  up  the  street. 

Vaughan  watched  them.  Hymn  after  hymn  he 
sang  until  they  were  near.  Then  he  stood  up  before 
them  and  began  to  plead  his  cause. 

"  My  friends,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  you  are  won 
dering  why  I  am  here.  The  reason  is  this :  my  church 
has  sent  me  to  preach  the  glad  tidings  of  life,  liberty 
and  happiness  to  every  man,  woman  and  child  of  this 
city.  My  message  has  been  ready.  I've  stood  down 
yonder  at  the  church  ready  to  deliver  it,  but  none 
of  you  came  to  hear.  So  I  have  come  to  you.  My 
instructions  were  Preach! 

"  How  can  I  preach  when  I  have  no  one  to  preach 
to?  ... 

"I  don't  come  here  as  an  example.  I  come  here 
as  your  friend.  If  at  any  time,  in  any  place,  you 
want  the  services  of  the  church  I  am  at  your  com 
mand.  I  have  no  *  hours.'  They  are  all  yours.  My 
door  will  always  be  open.  When  you  want  me,  come, 
and  if  I  am  able  I  will  respond.  On  your  part,  be 
friendly.  Come  and  listen  to  my  message.  Help  me 
to  discharge  my  duty.  Let  me  speak  plainly  and 
frankly  to  you  and  with  you.  ...  I  have  no 
doctrines  to  urge,  except  the  one  duty  of  following 
Christ,  the  Divine  Man,  who  taught  us  how  to  live 
and  how  to  die.  .  .  .  Many  of  you  were  brought 
up  in  Christian  homes.  You  have  drifted  away  from 


60  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  faith  of  your  fathers  and  mothers.  You  know 
your  duty,  but  you  need  to  be  reminded  of  it." 

He  paused.  "  Give  us  another  song,  Parson," 
called  someone  in  the  crowd. 

Again  he  sang:  then  looked  about  for  Jack. 
The  saloon-keeper  lounged  out  from  the  shadow  of 
the  doorway  where  he  had  been  standing. 

"  Want  her  toted  back,  Parson  ?  "  he  inquired. 

He  beckoned  to  his  men ;  the  instrument  was  again 
lifted  and  carried  back  to  the  church.  A  crowd  fol 
lowed  and  filled  the  place.  Jack  scanned  them  criti 
cally.  "  It's  a  fifty-dollar  house  if  they  don't  dead 
head,"  he  mused,  "  and,  by  jiminy,  they  shan't!  " 

He  listened  gravely  while  the  Parson  preached  and 
prayed  and  sang,  but  kept  one  eye  on  the  door  lest 
any  escape.  As  soon  as  the  last  "  Amen  "  was  said, 
Jack  was  on  his  feet. 

"  Parson,"  he  called  out  in  his  slow  drawl,  "  you've 
done  your  part,  now  we'll  do  ourn." 

He  stepped  to  the  table  below  the  platform  where 
the  preacher  stood  and  picked  up  two  long  poles, 
each  bearing  at  one  end  a  bag  of  dingy  red-and-yellow 
silk. 

"  Here,  Ned,"  he  called  to  Wilkins,  who  sat  in  a 
corner  near  the  door,  and  Wilkins  responded  to  the 
call.  No  one  ever  disobeyed  Jack  Perry. 

"  Take  this  and  go  down  that  aisle  and  see  that 
every  feller  tips  up!  "  He  raised  his  voice.  "  I'll  go 
down  the  other.  'Tain't  offen  Jack  Perry  acts  as 


GATHERING    A    CONGREGATION       61 

deaking,  but  when  he  does,  every  bub  in  the  house 
tips  up!  " 

He  started  on  his  deliberate  way,  presenting  the 
bag  to  each  individual.  If  anyone  hesitated  he 
received  a  jab  in  the  stomach  and  Jack's  voice  was 
heard,  "  Come,  tip  up !  tip  up !  " 

Before  one  man  he  paused  some  seconds.  "  What's 
that?"  He  could  be  heard  all  over  the  church. 
"  Broke?  "  He  turned  to  a  man  jehind  him.  "  Here, 
Bob,  lend  Pete  a  dollar.  And  see't  you  put  it  all  in, 
Pete!" 

The  bags  were  emptied  on  the  table  and  the  money 
was  counted.  "  Fifty-seven  dollars  and  six  bits," 
Jack  announced.  "  If  that  ain't  enough,  Parson, 
we'll  go  'round  again." 

"  That's  enough,"  returned  Vaughan.  "  I'm  sat 
isfied." 

Satisfied!  He  was  overwhelmed.  When,  since  his 
coming  to  Eureka,  had  he  had  so  much  money  at 
once?  He  rolled  about  on  his  hard  bed  for  hours, 
that  night,  reviewing  the  events  of  the  evening  and 
congratulating  himself.  At  last  he  had  made  an 
impression,  had  identified  himself  with  the  life  of  the 
place,  had  been  recognized  by  the  people.  He  could 
see  their  wondering  faces  press  up  from  below  as  he 
stood  on  the  corner,  could  hear  them  following  him 
down  the  street.  His  actual  work  had  begun. 

The  Eureka  Sentinel,  the  next  morning,  contained 
a  picturesque  account  of  the  services  on  Jackson's 


62  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

corner,  and,  in  conclusion,  "  welcomed  to  the  town 
the  talented  young  preacher,"  prophesying  that  he 
would  find  "  the  harvest  great,  the  laborers  few,  and 
the  pay  damned  little."  Penrose,  the  editor,  had  not, 
until  now,  so  much  as  recognized  his  existence. 

On  Richmond  Hill  the  affair  was  discussed  in  all 
its  phases.  It  furnished  to  Winslow  material  for 
infinite  sarcasm.  Haverford  could  but  thinly  dis 
guise  his  disgust.  Both  confessed  that  all  they  knew 
of  the  occurrence  was  what  they  had  heard. 

Ned  Wilkins  told  Katharine,  when  they  were  by 
themselves,  that  he  had  attended  the  service,  but  he 
did  not  mention  passing  the  bag.  It  was  queer,  he 
said,  but  there  was  something  contagious  about 
the  fellow's  enthusiasm.  He  spoke  apologetically. 
Katharine  caught  herself  combating  an  indefinite 
disapproval.  Singing  on  the  corner!  Marching 
with  his  organ  to  and  fro !  How  absurd,  how — inar 
tistic  !  She  wished  she  might  see  the  young  preacher 
and  tell  him  what  she  thought  of  such  methods.  Pos 
sibly  he  would  not  care. 

He  certainly  would  not  have  cared  at  the  time. 
At  the  time  he  was  following  that  ignis  -fatuus, 
Holy  Grail,  pillar  of  cloud  and  pillar  of  fire,  which 
was  to  him  his  Duty. 


CHAPTER    VII 

LETTERS    FROM   ENGLAND 

CLEMENT  sent  a  copy  of  the  Eureka  Sen- 
tinel  containing  the  notice  of  the  services 
on  Jackson's  Corner  to  the  Henley s.  It 
came  just  as  Mary  was  finishing  a  letter  to  Clement, 
written  to  accompany  the  budget  from  England. 

"  I've  half  a  mind  to  take  the  letters  over  there 
myself,"  said  Frank. 

"  I  wish  you  would !  "  exclaimed  Mary.  "  How  I'd 
like  to  go  with  you ! " 

"  Come  along." 

"  And  leave  the  children  ?  " 

"  Minnie's  perfectly  able  to  take  care  of  them  for 
three  days." 

"How  I'd  like  to!"  Mary  looked  out  of  the 
window,  down  the  canyon.  There  was  not  much  to 
see ;  the  rude,  straggling  houses,  the  smoke-stacks  of 
the  silent,  dust-covered  mills,  the  canyon  walls,  slop 
ing  up  to  the  sky,  were  all.  Sometimes  those  sky 
lines  brought  a  sense  of  crowding,  of  suffocation. 
She  was  entombed.  No  life  reached  her.  She 
rebelled  against  the  stagnant,  half-alive  condition, 

63 


64  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

longed  to  be  free.  The  drive  to  Eureka  offered  an 
escape,  as  well  as  the  opportunity  to  see  Clement. 

She  looked  back  at  Frank.  "  I'll  talk  it  over  with 
Minnie,"  she  concluded. 

"  Then  we'll  start  early  in  the  morning,"  said 
Frank,  who  considered  the  question  as  good  as  settled. 

They  took  Sonia  with  them.  Minnie  and  the  two 
little  girls  were  to  keep  house. 

It  was  an  exhilarating  ride,  down  the  canyon,  out 
upon  the  wide  floor  of  the  valley,  over  the  mountain 
pass  on  the  opposite  side.  The  Nevada  sunshine 
filled  the  atmosphere  with  life,  a  few  birds  sang,  the 
aromatic  smell  of  the  sage  brush,  crushed  by  the 
horses'  hoofs,  arose  like  incense.  The  mere  getting 
over  the  mountains  and  out  was  a  joy.  Mary  ex 
panded,  body,  mind  and  soul.  She  was  more  like  her 
old  self  than  Frank  had  seen  her  in  months. 

It  was  after  five  o'clock  when  they  struck  the 
Geiger  Grade.  Soon  afterwards  they  reached  the 
church. 

"  We  really  ought  to  wait  till  he's  had  his  supper," 
said  Mary. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  Frank  returned,  drawing  rein 
at  the  study  door.  "  We'll  take  him  out  somewhere 
for  a  square  meal. — Hullo !  "  he  called. 

Vaughan  responded  immediately.  His  surprise  and 
delight  were  worth  the  journey,  Mary  thought.  It 
was  the  first  meeting  since  he  left  Galena  and  there 
was  much  to  tell — of  the  new  life,  the  new  friends. 


LETTERS  FROM  ENGLAND     65 

They  all  went  out  together.  In  his  excitement 
Vaughan  forgot  to  eat. 

"  Now,  don't  you  say  another  word  till  you've 
finished  your  supper,"  commanded  Mary,  "  I'm  not 
going  to  speak  again." 

When  they  had  returned  to  the  study  Vaughan 
asked  for  his  letters.  "  If  you'll  excuse  me,  I'll  run 
them  through  now,"  he  said. 

He  opened  the  packet.  Those  from  his  father  and 
mother  lay  on  the  top  of  the  pile.  He  read  these 
first.  "  He's  in  no  hurry  to  get  to  those  from  his 
wife,"  Mary  said  to  herself. 

Vaughan  looked  up  with  shining  eyes.  "  That's  a 
beautiful  letter  from  mother,"  he  said  with  feeling. 
"  Father's  is  good,  too ;  but  you  women  know  how  to 
say  things." 

He  smiled  over  his  letter  from  his  old  pastor.  "  Let 
me  read  you  some  of  this,"  he  said,  "  it's  so 
characteristic !  '  I  am  so  glad,' — this  is  what  he 
writes, — '  that  you  have  returned  to  your  old  work. 
I  always  said  you  were  a  born  preacher.  When  you 
embarked  in  that  surgical  boat,  I  felt  sure  there 
would  be  a  whale  sent  out  after  Jonah,  and  it  is  a 
relief  to  learn  that  you  have  been  at  last  belched  out 
on  dry  land.'— Isn't  that  just  like  him?  " 

Vaughan  turned  again  to  his  packet.  He  stood 
Delia's  letters  up  in  a  row  before  him  on  his  desk  and 
a  quizzical  look  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  noted  the 
superscriptions.  He  selected  the  one  written  first  and 


66  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

deliberately  broke  the  seal.  Mary  anxiously  watched 
his  face.  Frank  shouldered  the  baby,  who  was  be 
coming  restless,  and  walked  with  her  out  into  the 
church. 

Clement  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  Poor  Delia,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  she  thinks  gold  and  silver  grow  like 
flowers  here  in  Nevada.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  gather 
them.  She  wants  me  to  have  my  first  nugget  made 
into  a  ring  like  the  one  Lizzie  Parkin's  husband  sent 
her.  She  has  inclosed  a  drawing  of  it."  Clement 
laughed  and  read  on.  "  She  says  she  has  a  surprise 
for  me,  but  will  keep  it  till  I  come  home  at  Christ 
mas."  He  slid  the  first  letter  into  its  envelope  and 
took  up  the  second. 

"  It  is  very  much  like  the  first,"  he  commented. 
"  Just  gossip  about  the  neighbors — is  anxious  to 
have  me  get  well  and  strong,  says  I  mustn't  overdo, 
and  so  on,  and  so  on."  He  ran  rapidly  over  the  con 
tents,  refolded  the  sheet  and  returned  it  to  the 
envelope. 

Over  the  third  he  paused.  Mary  drew  a  long 
breath.  "  Now  it's  coming,"  she  said  to  herself. 

This  was  the  letter  written  in  answer  to  Clement's, 
telling  of  the  night  at  Lou  Pugh's.  What  did 
Delia  say  in  reply  to  that  impassioned  appeal,  what 
could  she  say  that  caused  the  slender  brown  fingers 
to  tighten  on  the  closely  written  sheet?  He  glanced 
up  and  met  her  inquiring  eyes. 

"  It's  only  what  you'd  expect  from  a  girl  who  has 


LETTERS  FROM  ENGLAND     67 

been  brought  up  as  she  has,"  he  said  apologetically. 
"  She's  never  realized  her  duties  to  her  fellow-men. 
Her  duties  have  been  to  her  family  and  herself.  Most 
people  are  like  that,  you  know,  Mary.  They  feel 
that  if  every  man  does  his  duty  by  his  own,  the  whole 
scheme  of  the  universe  will  run  smoothly.  I've  tried 
to  show  her  another  side  of  the  picture,  but  in  her 
eyes  I'm  a  failure,  you  know.  I  haven't  money  or 

position "  He  paused  for  a  moment  before  he 

continued. 

"  Her  father  thinks  I'd  better  come  home  before  I 
make  any  more  mistakes,"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 
"  Her  uncle  offers  me  a  place  in — in  the  brewery." 

"Clement!" 

"  Mary,  they're  good,  honest  people,  living  accord 
ing  to  their  light.  To  them  I'm  a  fanatic,  a  fool. 
They  can't  understand.  How  should  they  ?  " 

He  broke  the  seal  of  the  fourth  letter  and  whirled 
his  chair  away  from  the  light  of  the  window  so  that 
Mary  could  no  longer  see  his  face  while  he  read.  She 
responded  by  quietly  leaving  the  room. 

She  found  her  husband  walking  up  and  down  the 
narrow  aisles  between  the  chairs.  They  were  ar 
ranged  in  the  segment  of  a  circle,  many  in  the  center, 
few  at  the  sides.  She  tried  to  imagine  them  filled 
with  people,  tried  to  picture  Clement  on  the  plat 
form  behind  the  reading-desk;  but  the  place  was  too 
big  and  bare  and  empty.  The  great  black  stoves  to 
the  right  and  left  of  the  door  had  a  brutal  look.  The 


68  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

air  was  close.  She  tried  to  open  a  window.  It  stuck 
fast. 

No  sound  came  from  the  inner  room.  Nothing  was 
to  be  heard  save  the  squeak  of  Frank's  boots  as  he 
went  up  and  down  with  the  child.  She  was  half 
asleep,  flung  limply  over  his  shoulder,  her  fair  head 
drooping  against  his  rough  coat.  Mary  went  up  to 
her,  put  the  damp  curls  back  from  her  moist  fore 
head  and  touched  it  with  her  lips. 

"  Frank,"  she  whispered,  "  don't  you  think  one  of 
us  ought  to  go  in  there  and  speak  to  him  ?  " 

"What  for?" 

"  To  show  our  sympathy." 

"  He  doesn't  want  sympathy,  not  at  this  stage  of 
the  game." 

"What  does  he  want?" 

"  To  be  let  alone." 

Mary  trudged  after,  catching  at  Sonia's  hand  and 
mouthing  it.  "It's  getting  late,"  she  whispered, 
after  a  while. 

"  Yes.  I'm  going  over  to  the  hotel."  He  raised 
his  voice.  "  We're  going  over  to  the  hotel,  Clement. 
We'll  see  you  in  the  morning,  or  to-night,  if  you  feel 
like  coming  over." 

There  was  a  noise  in  the  rear  room,  of  a  chair 
pushed  back,  and  Clement  came  out  into  the  church. 
"  Must  you  go?  "  he  said  hurriedly.  "  It  was  very 
kind  of  you  to  come.  I'll  see  you  before  bed-time." 
He  still  held  the  letter  in  his  hand. 


LETTERS  FROM  ENGLAND     69 

"  Do  come  over,"  urged  Mary.  Her  voice  trem 
bled.  "  If  there's  anything  we  can  do "  she 

faltered. 

Frank  took  her  by  the  arm.  "  Of  course,  Clement 
knows  we're  always  ready  to  do  anything  we  can,"  he 
said  briskly. 

Left  to  himself,  Vaughan  returned  to  his  own  room 
and  again  read  the  letter.  He  knew  it  by  heart 
already,  and  yet  he  must  keep  on  reading  and  reread 
ing  those  bitter  words.  Their  very  vehemence  de 
manded  that  he  should  read  and  reread  them. 

"  The  law  frees  us  from  criminals  and  lunatics," 
Delia  wrote,  "  and  I  don't  know  which  you  are  the 
most  of,  to  refuse  that  place  at  Virginia  City,  which 
meant  comfort  to  me  and  freedom  from  trouble — 
when  did  you  ever  bring  me  anything  but  trouble? 
Do  you  think  you  are  so  much  better  than  other  men 
that  you  can  let  those  you've  sworn  to  take  care  of 
go,  while  you  chase  around  saving  souls? 

"  Saving  souls !  How  many  have  you  saved  so  far, 
after  all  the  noise  and  rumpus  you've  raised.  I  sup 
pose  Mary  Henley  has  been  putting  you  up  to  this. 
Before  she  dies  she  may  see  her  mistake.  I'll  tell 
you  one  thing,  Clement  Vaughan.  I've  waited  as  long 
as  I'm  going  to  for  you  to  play  a  man's  part  towards 
me.  Go  ahead,  hunt  around  for  some  black-hearted 
villain  to  pull  out  of  the  muck,  and  when  you've  done 
it,  come  back  and  see  what  I've  become  in  the  mean 
time." 


70  IJIK    SACIK    BRUSH    PARSON 


she  wrote  and  crossed  out  with  heavy  scor 
ings  of  I  lie  jx-ri.  Then  she  signed  her  maiden  name, 
"  Delia  Korington." 

The  letter  fell  from  VaUghlH*!  hands.  How  vivid 
it  was,  liow  real,  how  near  it  brought  I  he  woman  who 
wrote  it,  and  how  pale  mid  vague  and  far  removed  it 
made  I  he  scenes  about  him,  the  man  and  woman  and 
child  who  had  just  left! 

What  had  he  accomplished,  after  all?  What  was 
lie  likely  lo  accomplish?  What  was  his  mission  but 
u  dream,  a  hope?  And  there,  on  the  table'  before  him, 
alive,  tortured,  protesting,  lay  a  woman's  heart!  If 
Delia  had  not  cared  for  him,  she  would  not  have  gone 
to  such  lengths.  Pride,  jealousy,  passion,  spoke  in 
every  line. 

Who  of  all  he  knew  in  this  new  world,  in  this  new 
work,  cared  like  that?  Those  for  whom  he  had 
planned  and  striven  regarded  him  from  a  distance, 
coldly.  Mary  Henley  set  him  up  on  a  pedestal 
by  himself.  This  woman,  thousands  of  miles  away, 
through  the  throbbing  medium  of  her  written  words, 
caught  him  to  her,  carried  him  on,  then  thrust  him 
from  her;  and  he  sat  alone  among  his  books  in  the 
narrow  room,  faint,  weak,  unresisting. 

He  did  not  see  the  llenleys  again  that  night.  In 
the  morning  he  found  I  hem  at  the  hotel,  just  as  they 
v\ere  leaving.  There  was  very  little  said  on  either 
side;  too  111  lie,  Mar\  Ilenlev  thought.  She  longed 
to  supply  a  prop,  a  stimulus.  She  took  Clement's 


LETTERS  FROM  ENGLAND     71 

offered  hand  in  both  of  hers.     "  *  He  that  loveth— 
husband  or  wife  more  than  me,'  "  she  began. 

He  pulled  his  hand  away.  "  Don't !  "  he  exclaimed, 
as  if  she  had  touched  a  bruise ;  then  with  one  of  the 
quick  changes  which  in  him  constituted  such  a 
charm,  he  added  appealingly,  "  I  can't  talk,  or  be 
talked  to,  just  now." 


CHAPTER    VIII 


IT  had  come  to  be  a  proverb  among  the  serv 
ants  of  the  Chisholm-Sinclair  household, 
"  What  Miss  Elsie  don't  know  ain't  worth 
knowin'."  Often  they  added,  "  And  what  she  don't 
know  she'll  guess  at !  " 

But  for  once  Elsie  was  completely  at  loss  to 
account  for  the  changes  going  on  around  her.  Why 
did  Mr.  Winslow  forget  her  candy?  Why  did  Mr. 
Haverford  ride  off  absent-mindedly  without  giving 
her  the  customary  gallop  down  the  street  and  back 
again?  Who  was  "  the  Sage  Brush  Parson  "  that  did 
such  dreadful  things?  Who  was  "  C.  V.?  " 

Elsie  was  at  her  busiest  trying  to  solve  these  mys 
teries.  Her  cousin  Marguerite  was  of  very  little 
help  in  the  matter.  She  was  two  years  older,  but  did 
not  know  much  of  anything  except  books.  She  had 
lessons  every  day  with  Aunt  Emmeline.  Elsie  was 
supposed  to  do  something  of  the  sort,  but  books  made 
her  head  ache,  and  they  all  said  she  was  too  little. 
So  Elsie  studied  people  and  learned  much.  She 
learned  that  one  could  manage  Aunt  Mabel  by  tell 
ing  her  how  pretty  she  was,  whereas  Elsie's  mother 
only  made  you  "  mind  "  the  more.  She  learned  that 

72 


ELSIE    GOES   IN   SEARCH   OF   "  C.   V."     73 

Uncle  Arthur  liked  little  girls  to  say  "  Yes,  sir  "  and 
"  No,  sir,"  and  then  to  keep  still,  whereas  the  other 
gentlemen  who  came  to  the  house  wanted  you  to  tell 
them  things.  But  you  mustn't  tell  them  too  much; 
then  there  was  trouble.  If  they  told  you  things,  that 
was  different.  Aunt  Mabel  would  pet  you  and  laugh 
when  you  repeated  what  they  said;  even  Elsie's 
mother  seemed  to  like  to  hear  it,  although  she  pre 
tended  she  didn't  and  told  Elsie  little  girls  mustn't 
repeat  what  they  heard.  She  didn't  mean  to  give 
Elsie  a  chance  to  hear  very  much.  She  shook  her 
head  at  Aunt  Mabel  when  Aunt  Mabel  commenced 
talking  about  "  C.  V." 

Who  was  "  C.  V."  anyway  ?  And  who  was  "  the 
Sage  Brush  Parson  "  ?  She  had  an  impression,  every 
day  growing  stronger,  that  the  tall,  kind  man  who 
took  her  away  from  the  cows  was  "  C.  V."  At  last 
she  became  practically  sure  of  it.  Where  was  he,  any 
way?  He  had  promised  to  come  to  see  her  "  some 
day."  Why  didn't  he  come? — Oh,  dear,  it  was  so  hot ! 

"  Nora  Flynn,"  she  called  to  the  maid  detailed  to 
watch  her,  "  I'm  going  down  to  your  cousin's  house 
and  play  with  the  black  kitten." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  darlin',  and  I'll  take  ye," 
answered  the  girl,  hurriedly  laying  aside  her  sewing. 

"  I  want  to  go  alone,"  pouted  Elsie,  whose  designs 
included  more  than  the  kitten. 

"  Yer  manner  wouldn't  like  it." 

"  She  would,  if  she  got  used  to  the  idea.'* 


74*  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Nora  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed.  "  Where- 
ever  do  the  child  get  her  old-fashioned  talk  ? " 
she  queried.  "  Come  along.  Where's  yer  little 
kerridge  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  my  little  carriage." 

"  Yes,  you  do.  Come,  be  a  good  girl  to  Nora, 
now ;  that's  a  darlin' !  " 

Elsie  sighed  and  yielded.  After  all,  there  was 
nothing  to  be  gained  by  holding  out,  and  valuable 
time  might  be  lost  in  such  a  course.  It  was  already 
long  past  luncheon,  and  dinner  came  so  soon ! 

She  suffered  herself  to  be  helped  into  the  tricycle 
and  trundled  away  in  the  direction  of  Mary  Flynn's, 
followed  by  the  indefatigable  Nora. 

On  the  back  steps,  with  the  black  kitten  cuddled 
up  against  her  bare  neck,  she  very  nearly  decided 
to  give  up  her  plan.  The  kitten's  fur  tickled  so 
deliciously,  and  really  it  was  very  pleasant  on  the 
back  steps  among  the  vines.  On  the  other  hand,  she 
did  want  to  ask  the  tall,  kind  man  if  he  was  "  C.  V." 
She  was  quite  sure  he  was,  from  something  Aunt 
Mabel  said  that  morning.  She  said  most  men  would 
have  jumped  at  the  chance  to  come  again.  Now, 
who  was  there  who  had  such  a  chance  and  didn't  jump 
at  it,  except  the  tall,  kind  man?  Yes,  he  was  "  C. 
V.":  he  must  be.  But  why  didn't  he  come  again? 
He  had  said  he  would,  "  some  day."  She  would  ask 
him  that,  among  other  things. 

Someone  came  down  the  street,  walking  rapidly. 


ELSIE   GOES    IN   SEARCH   OF   "  C.   V."     75 

It  was,  it  was  he !  She  would  run  after  him. — What 
were  they  doing  in  the  kitchen?  Bother,  there  came 
Nora,  now! 

"  D'ye  want  to  go  home,  darlin'  ?  "  Nora  inquired, 
putting  her  head  out  at  the  door. 

"  No,"  replied  Elsie,  shaking  her  curls  and  clasp 
ing  the  kitten  till  it  miaowed. 

"  Don't  hurt  the  kitty,  dearie,"  cautioned  Nora. 

"  I'm  not  hurting  her." 

"  When  ye're  ready  will  ye  shpake  to  me  ?  " 

Elsie  knew  what  that  meant.  They  were  going  to 
get  out  the  cards  and  tell  fortunes,  and  Nora  knew 
that  she  wouldn't  think  of  anything  else,  then. 
Elsie  knew  it,  too.  As  soon  as  she  heard  the  scrap 
ing  of  the  chairs  drawn  up  to  the  kitchen  table  and 
the  little  thud  of  the  cards,  she  danced  out  of  the 
yard  and  down  the  street. 

Far,  far  ahead  of  her  strode  that  tall  figure.  Now 
it  vanished  around  a  corner,  but  Elsie  knew  which 
corner  it  was  and  fluttered  after,  the  black  kitten 
hugged  up  under  her  chin.  Around  Jackson's,  past 
Jack  Perry's — there  he  was,  going  into  the  church. 

She  followed  as  far  as  the  door,  then  paused, 
irresolute.  Within,  she  could  hear  someone  whistling. 
It  was  very  wrong  to  whistle  in  church.  Once,  when 
a  boy  whistled  over  at  St.  Stephen's,  Mr.  Haverford 
put  him  out.  Perhaps  it  was  different  with  grown-up 
men;  they  might  whistle  when  boys  couldn't — like 
smoking. 


76          THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

She  tiptoed  over  the  threshold  and  advanced  softly 
down  the  aisle.  The  whistling  came  from  some  place 
in  behind.  It  stopped  as  she  reached  the  door.  She 
stopped,  too,  and  stood  there,  a  picture  of  innocent 
confusion,  her  bright  hair  touched  by  the  afternoon 
sun. 

"  Ah ! "  cried  Clement  with  acute  delight,  and 
stretched  out  his  arms  to  her. 

She  fluttered  into  them  and  allowed  herself  to  be 
perched  on  his  knee. 

"  You  went  so  fast,  I  had  to  run,"  she  faltered,  as 
if  that  was  the  only  reason  her  breath  came  and  went 
so  quickly. 

"  But  you  see  I  didn't  know  you  were  there,"  he 
pleaded :  "  I  should  certainly  have  waited  for  you." 

She  smiled,  and  examined  him  covertly  under  her 
eyelashes.  Yes,  he  was  just  as  delightful  as  she 
thought  he  was. 

"  Are  you  '  C.  V.'?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  he  answered ;  "  those  are  my 
initials." 

"  There,  I  knew  you  were ! "  she  exclaimed 
triumphantly,  "  and  they  thought  they  were  fooling 
me  [  "  She  frowned.  "  But  who  is  « the  Sage  Brush 
Parson5?" 

"  I  suppose  Pm  that,  too."  He  had  heard  of 
Haverford's  name  for  him. 

Now  she  was  silent,  troubled,  looking  the  other 
way. 


ELSIE    GOES   IN   SEARCH   OF   "  C.   V."     77 

"  Why,  isn't  '  the  Sage  Brush  Parson '  as  good  as 
<C.  V.'?"  he  inquired. 

"  No,"  she  said  sorrowfully.  "  And  I  don't  see 
how  you  can  be  both. — You're  not ! "  she  declared 
suddenly ;  "  you  said  that  to  tease  me." 

Her  curious  eyes  roved  about  the  room.  "  Do  you 
live  here? "  was  the  next  question.  Then  the 
catechism  went  on  without  break.  Where  did  he 
sleep?  Where  did  he  eat  and  what?  Did  he  like  this 
and  that?  At  last  she  yawned  prodigiously  for  such 
a  delicate  creature  and  let  her  head  sink  to  his 
shoulder.  A  long  sigh  trembled  through  her  parted 
lips.  Her  eyes  closed. 

"  This  is  nice,"  she  whispered,  relaxing  her  hold 
on  the  black  kitten,  which  nevertheless  made  no  effort 
to  escape,  but  tucked  its  forepaws  in  and  purred 
lustily. 

"  Very  nice,"  said  Clement,  laying  one  hand  on  the 
kitten  and  the  other  on  the  child's  soft  hair.  Soon 
both  were  asleep. 

Meanwhile,  there  was  a  great  hue-and-cry  on  Rich 
mond  Hill.  Nora  had  come  home  with  the  empty 
tricycle,  confessing  that  she  had  no  idea  of  its 
owner's  whereabouts.  The  various  members  of  the 
family  departed  in  as  many  different  directions  to 
search  for  the  runaway.  Katharine,  for  reasons  best 
known  to  herself,  went  straight  to  the  church.  The 
afternoon  shadows,  which  come  so  early  to  the  canyon, 
were  already  lengthening,  but  the  small  brick  edifice, 


78  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

because  of  its  position  on  the  hill,  was  still  in  the 
light.  The  door  stood  open.  She  looked  in,  caught 
the  glow  of  the  red  carpet,  noted  the  informal 
arrangement  of  the  chairs.  It  was  certainly  a  home 
like  little  place,  but  very  unchurchly.  Her  Episco 
palian  soul  revolted  as  Elsie's  had  at  the  whistling. 

There  was  not  a  sound,  yet  she  felt  quite  sure  the 
child  was  there.  Why?  she  asked  herself.  Katharine 
had  a  way  of  asking  herself  questions;  usually  she 
compelled  herself  to  answer  them. 

She  advanced  slowly  down  the  aisle,  which  was 
in  line  with  the  inner  room.  Yes,  there  they  were,  the 
man,  the  child  and — actually,  the  kitten ! 

She  was  conscious  of  a  strange  little  sensation,  dis 
quieting,  yet  not  altogether  unpleasant,  as  she  spied 
the  long  brown  hand  resting  on  Elsie's  curls. 

His  head  drooped.     Of  what  was  he  thinking? 

He  did  not  see  her  until  she  stood  in  the  doorway. 
Then  he  started.  She  might  have  been  a  wood- 
nymph,  he  told  himself,  emerging  from  the  oaken 
frame  about  her,  in  her  cool,  tawny  silks  and  wide 
flower-trimmed  hat,  with  her  pallor  and  her  startled 
eyes. 

He  did  not  speak  for  an  instant.  But  Elsie  had 
felt  his  sudden  move.  She  sat  upright,  flushed  and 
embarrassed,  and  began  to  talk  very  fast.  She  had 
been  so  tired,  she  walked  so  far 

"  But  you  ran  away,"  interrupted  Katharine  with 
asperity.  "  Why  did  you  do  that?  " 


ELSIE    GOES   IN   SEARCH   OF   "  C.   V."     79 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  *  C.  V.'  something,"  replied  Elsie 
with  a  toss  of  her  small  head. 

"  What  ?  "  cried  her  mother.  It  was  her  turn  to 
become  embarrassed.  Redder  than  her  roses  she 
grew. 

Elsie  saw  her  advantage  and  pressed  it.  "  He  is 
*  C.  V.' — he  says  so,"  she  continued,  "  and  he  says — 
oh,  there  goes  the  kitty  I  borrowed  of  Mary  Flynn !  " 

Over  the  red  carpet  she  darted  like  a  puff  of  thistle 
down  in  a  high  wind.  Katharine  and  Clement  fol 
lowed  in  hot  pursuit.  They  caught  her,  as  she 
caught  the  kitten,  halfway  down  the  steps. 

Both  her  hands  were  occupied.  "  Let  me  take  the 
cat,"  said  Katharine,  but  Elsie  tucked  the  animal 
resolutely  under  her  chin  again,  saying,  "  She 
doesn't  know  you,  mamma,  and,"  this  by  way  of 
warding  off  interference,  "  kitties  have  fits,  some 
times." 

Katharine  glanced  helplessly  at  Vaughan.  He 
laughed.  "  I'll  get  my  hat  and  walk  up  with  you,  if 
you  will  permit  me,"  he  said  sympathetically. 

"  If  you  will  be  so  kind,"  she  responded. 

So  the  three  went  through  the  dingy  streets 
together,  the  man  in  his  long  coat,  which  suited  him, 
she  decided,  like  the  habit  of  an  Order;  the  woman 
in  her  golden  draperies,  rippling  and  shining  as  she 
walked  like  sunlit  water  over  the  statue  of  a  fountain, 
and  the  fairy  child  now  here,  now  there,  before, 
behind  them.  Like  the  shuttle  in  a  web  she  wove 


80  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

them  together  and  gave  them  an  excuse  for  being  in 
each  other's  company. 

The  rest  of  the  searching  party  had  returned  and 
were  gathered  in  a  group  in  front  of  the  house  when 
they  reached  it. 

"  It's  the  Parson  to  the  rescue  again ! "  said 
Winslow,  his  lip  twitching. 

"  So  it  seems,"  replied  Arthur. 

"  Of  all  things !  "  murmured  Mabel,  who  seemed  to 
read  unutterable  meanings  in  the  approach  of  the 
three. 

"  Where  do  you  think  the  child  has  been  ? " 
demanded  Miss  Emmeline  of  everyone  in  general,  and 
no  one  in  particular  answered  her. 

"  Come  up  and  meet  my  friends,"  urged  Katharine. 
"  Dine  with  us,  do.  My  brother  wishes  to  meet  you ; 
he  said  so.  And  the  rest  are  all  friends ;  you  would 
like  them.  Please  do." 

Why  should  he  not  accept?  The  Superintendent 
had  hinted  to  him,  not  too  subtly,  that  these  were  the 
people  whom  it  was  especially  desirable  that  the  new 
preacher  should  meet  and  attract.  What  better 
opportunity  could  be  offered? 

He  3aelded,  not  altogether  against  his  will,  and 
Katharine  led  him  triumphantly  up  to  the  group. 
They  received  him  politely,  kindly,  as  become  the  well- 
bred,  but  with  a  covert  spirit  of  inquiry  which  at 
once  put  him  on  his  mettle.  He  would  show  them  of 
what  stuff  he  was  made !  He  talked,  in  their 


ELSIE    GOES    IN    SEARCH    OF    « C.    V."     81 

language,  told  stories,  from  their  point  of  view,  put 
on  their  armor,  fought  their  battle,  touched  Haver- 
ford  where  he  was  most  sensitive,  showed  how  dull 
Winslow  could  be,  flattered  Mabel,  charmed  Miss 
Emmeline  and  made  Arthur  Sinclair  open  his  eyes  in 
the  way  so  like  Katharine's  way  when  she  was  sur 
prised  and  pleased. 

Her  eyes  glowed  like  stars  to-night.  She  openly 
exulted  in  the  new  acquisition  to  their  little  circle. 
"  You  will  come  again,  you  must,"  she  pleaded,  as  he 
bade  her  good-night.  "  You  are  just  what  we  need. 
Really,  it  is  a  mission." 

He  laughingly  promised  and  hurried  away,  won 
dering  at  the  new  lightness  and  brightness  he  dis 
covered  in  himself,  responding  with  every  faculty  to 
the  atmosphere  he  had  left. 

On  Jackson's  Corner  two  men  in  miner's  dress 
started  out  from  among  the  shadows  and  accosted  him. 

"  You  the  feller  that  runs  the  hanky-panky  estab 
lishment  yonder?  "  inquired  one  of  them. 

"  The  what?  "  asked  Vaughan. 

"  The  hanky-panky  shop.  The  hallelujah  outfit," 
repeated  the  miner  impatiently. 

"  The  saint-factory,  the  sinner-be-damned  place," 
ejaculated  the  other  miner. 

"  O-h,  the  church ! "  exclaimed  Vaughan,  a  great 
light  breaking  in  upon  him.  "  Yes,  yes,  I'm  the  par 
son.  Come  in,  come  in,  and  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for 
you." 


CHAPTER    IX 


VAUGHAN  led  the  two  miners  around  to  the 
side  door  and  into  the  study,  where  he  lit  his 
one  lamp  and  begged  them  to  be  seated  on 
two  chairs  which  he  brought  from  the  church.     The 
light   shone   on   their   red   shirts,   blue   overalls    and 
heavy  boots,  and  on  their  rough,  anxious  faces. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  asked  the  preacher 
kindly. 

They  glanced  at  each  other,  and  the  man  who  had 
first  spoken  began  hesitatingly.  "  Ye  see,  Charley 
Davenport's  handed  in  his  checks  and  dropped  out  of 
the  game,  and  the  boys  want  him  planted  in  fine 
style.  Jim  and  me  here's  a  committee  to  see  if  you'll 
do  the  job — 'way  up  in  G." 

"  That's  it,  Bill,  'way  up  in  G,"  echoed  the  other 
miner. 

"'Way  up  in  G?"  repeated  Vaughan.  "I  don't 
quite  understand.  What  has  Mr.  Davenport  done? 
And  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?  " 

"  Don't  you  savvey  ?  "  exclaimed  Bill  with  some 
impatience.  "  Charley's  dropped  out  of  the  game, 
petered  out,  gone  up  the  flume,  passed  over  the 
Divide — damn  it,  ain't  that  clear?  " 

82 


CHARLEY  DAVENPORT'S  FUNERAL  83 

"Yes,  damn  it,  ain't  that  clear?"  echoed  Jim. 

"  Oh,  I  think  I  begin  to  understand,"  said  Vaughan 
slowly.  "  Mr.  Davenport's  dead  and  you  want  me  to 
bury  him :  is  that  it  ?  " 

"  That's  it ;  you've  tumbled,"  said  Bill. 

"  That's  it,  you've  tumbled,"  echoed  the  other 
member  of  the  committee. 

"  We  want  a  little  business  at  the  church,  and  some 
more  at  the  grave.  That's  where  you  wanter  do  yer 
hollerin'  !  Have  plenty  o'  singin',  the  reel  techin' 
kind.  Two  o'clock  sharp." 

After  a  few  more  instructions  the  Committee  took 
their  leave  and  Vaughan  hurried  over  to  Jack 
Perry's  for  information.  He  found  both  Jack  and 
Mat  there  and  retired  with  them  to  one  of  the  small 
rooms  where  they  would  be  free  from  interruption. 

"  I  understand  the  deceased  was  a  member  of  sev 
eral  different  organizations,  secret  societies  and  the 
like,"  he  began,  taking  a  notebook  and  a  pencil  from 
his  pocket. 

"  You  bet  he  was,"  replied  Mat. 

"  Yes,  Charley  was  into  everything,"  said  Jack. 
"  He  was  a  Knight  of  Pythias,  I.  O.  O.  F.,  and  A.  O. 
U.  W.,  C.  F.,  K.  T.,  H.  and  K.  and  lots  of  others." 

"  You'll  have  to  tell  me  what  these  letters  signify," 
said  the  Methodist,  writing  busily  in  his  notebook. 

Jack  and  Mat  explained.  There  were  ten  societies 
of  which  Charley  Davenport  had  been  a  distinguished 
member. 


84  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  And  they'll  all  turn  out,"  said  Jack.  "  It's  goin' 
to  be  the  biggest  send-off  ever  got  up  in  Eureka." 

"  Did  Mr.  Davenport  leave  any  children? " 
Vaughan  inquired,  pencil  poised  in  air. 

"  They  do  say  that  youngest  kid  of  Mcln- 
tyre's "  began  Mat,  but  Jack  interrupted  him. 

"  Parson  don't  mean  that,"  he  said,  frowning. 
"  No,  Charley  didn't  leave  any  children." 

"  Is  there  a  widow?  "  asked  Vaughan. 

"  They  don't  go  by  that  name,"  replied  Jack 
grimly. 

Vaughan  shook  his  head  distrustfully. 

"  What  were  some  of  Mr.  Davenport's  character 
istics?  He  seems  to  have  had  a  great  many  friends," 
he  pursued,  still  feeling  about  for  some  shred  of 
material  out  of  which  he  could  weave  the  eulogistic 
sermon  he  felt  quite  sure  that  he  would  be  called  upon 
to  preach. 

"  He  was  *  dead  on  the  trigger,' "  said  Jack 
approvingly. 

"  And  could  cuss  a  man  into  hell  the  quickest  of 
anybody  in  town,"  added  Mat. 

"  Except  Dick,"  said  Jack. 

"  Oh,  Dick's  got  a  lot  of  words"  said  Mat,  "  but 
he  don't  use  'em  the  way  Charley  could." 

"  He  was  cool"  said  Jack. 

"  Cool ! "  cried  Mat.  "  His  face  was  like  a  stun 
eemage" 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack,  "  there  wasn't  no  one  could  tell 


CHARLEY  DAVENPORT'S  FUNERAL  85 

whether  he  was  going  up  or  down.  He  was  onto  his 
job,  all  right." 

"  What  was  his  business  ? "  inquired  Vaughan 
impatiently. 

"  Oh,  he  f  ollered  the  races,  some,"  Jack  replied 
cautiously. 

"  Not  t'  amount  to  nothin',  Jack,"  interposed  Mat. 
"  He  '  bucked  the  tiger,'  Parson,  that's  what  he  did. 
There  ain't  a  miner  nor  a  cowboy  in  Eureka  but's 
met  Charley  Davenport  over  the  cards.  What's  the 
matter,  Parson?"  For  Vaughan,  with  an  exclama 
tion  of  disgust,  had  torn  out  the  leaves  of  the  note 
book  on  which  he  had  been  writing,  had  rolled  them 
into  a  wad  and  thrown  them  under  the  table. 

"Unclean?  profane?  dishonest?"  he  summed  up. 
"  What  can  I  say  in  praise  of  such  a  man?  " 

"  Omit  flowers,  eh?  "  queried  Jack  with  a  grin. 
"  After  all,  Charley  wasn't  a  bad  sort  of  a  feller. 
He'd  give  his  last  cent  to  pull  you  out  of  a  hole. 
You'll  warm  up  to-morrer  when  you  see  'em  all  out  in 
their  aprons  and  bibs  and  frills." 

It  was  certainly  a  most  extraordinary  sight.  Every 
organization  appeared  in  full  regalia,  from  the  Hose 
Company,  the  "  Hooks  and  Knicks " — brief  for 
knickerbockers — to  the  Knights  of  Pythias,  with  their 
plumes.  The  little  church  was  filled  with  glittering, 
clanking,  strutting  humanity.  Among  the  Masons 
appeared  Judges,  an  ex-governor,  a  senator.  Judge 
Weaver  and  Lou  Pugh  had  driven  over  from  Lewis. 


86  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

There  were  men  from  every  mine  in  camp.  Doctor 
Addison  was  there  with  a  brother-physician  from 
Battle  Mountain.  Shed  Wellman  was  there — the 
wealthy  cattle-owner  who  lived  on  Richmond  Hill, 
near  the  Chisholms  and  Sinclairs,  but  not  of  them. 
Dashing  cowboys,  rough  miners,  gaudy  women  came 
in  droves. 

Conspicuous  among  the  crowd  appeared  the  Com 
mittee,  Bill  and  Jim.  They  had  their  eyes  on  the 
Parson  from  the  time  they  entered  the  church  and 
their  gaze  never  faltered.  As  he  uttered  the  opening 
sentence,  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life, 
saith  the  Lord,"  their  attitude  became  severely 
critical. 

The  best  was  never  too  good  for  anyone  who 
listened  to  him,  but  it  must  be  confessed  that 
Vaughan  made  what  he  gave  seem  more  at  some  times 
than  at  others.  To-day,  stirred  by  the  contrast 
between  the  pomp  and  circumstance  surrounding  the 
flower-decked  casket  and  the  life  that  ended  there,  he 
gave  to  the  impressive  words  a  majesty  and  a  mean 
ing  which  could  not  fail  to  penetrate  the  most  cal 
lous  heart.  He  made  the  psalm  sound  like  an  anthem 
as  he  read  it,  and  the  wonderful  Corinthian  chapter 
became  a  score  of  sermons  rolled  into  one.  Only  the 
Committee  looked  the  dissatisfaction  which  they  felt. 

"  Ain't  he  goin'  to  say  nothin'  ?  "  asked  Jim  in  a 
whisper,  nudging  Bill. 

"Keep     still,"     whispered     Bill,     nudging    back. 


CHARLEY  DAVENPORT'S  FUNERAL  87 

"  Give  him  time.  He  ain't  got  through.  He's 
probbly  waitin'  till  he  gets  us  up  on  the  hill." 

The  procession  formed,  in  vehicles  of  every  descrip 
tion,  "  hacks,"  buggies,  buckboards.  The  various 
Orders  and  Societies  were  afoot.  Gradually  it  wound 
its  way  around  Jackson's  Corner,  down  Main  Street, 
up  on  Cemetery  Hill. 

From  his  place  in  the  undertaker's  carriage,  before 
the  hearse,  Vaughan  watched  it  move  its  slow  length 
along. 

"  Great,  ain't  it  ? "  muttered  the  undertaker. 
"  Ain't  been  such  a  buryin'  here  since  I  went  inter 
business.  Gee,  it's  hot !  "  He  mopped  his  face,  per 
spiring  freely  by  reason  of  recent  effort  and  present 
agitation. 

On  they  came ;  Masons,  Knights,  Odd  Fellows, 
Hooks  and  Knicks,  miners  and  their  families,  cow 
boys,  women  of  the  under  world,  gamblers,  sharps. 

"  Three-four  hundred,  betcher  dollar ! "  estimated 
the  undertaker. 

They  reached  the  cemetery.  Around  them  lay  the 
open  sage  brush  country.  Near  at  hand  clustered  the 
monuments  to  the  dead.  Before  the  grave  the  under 
taker  paused  and  alighted.  Vaughan  followed.  The 
motley  company  grouped  themselves  in  reverent 
silence,  rank  upon  rank,  on  the  other  side  of  the  nar 
row  opening. 

Beyond  them  and  below  could  be  seen  the  gash  of 
the  canyon,  the  ends  and  tops  of  houses,  here  the 


88  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

hoisting  works,  there  the  stacks  of  furnaces,  their 
red  fires  gleaming,  even  in  the  intense  Nevada  sun 
light  ;  further  on,  a  trail  of  flame  showing  where  the 
waste  went  over  the  dump,  and  in  the  background 
sage  brush  and  alkali,  rocks  and  bowlders,  till  one 
came  to  the  verge  of  the  great,  overarching,  azure 
sky. 

"  Man  that  is  born  of  woman,"  began  the  preacher, 
— helmets  and  plumed  hats  and  sombreros  were 
doffed,  heads  were  bowed, — "  hath  but  a  short  time 

to  live.  ...  I  heard  a  voice "  And  so 

on  through  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  through  the 
Benediction. 

Still  no  one  moved.  There  was  an  embarrassing 
pause,  then  the  Committee  extricated  themselves 
from  the  throng,  and  hastily  made  their  way  to  the 
spot  where  the  Parson  stood. 

"  Why  don't  you  shoot  off  yer  mouth?  "  demanded 
Bill  in  a  low  whisper.  "  The  boys  expect  you  to  give 
'em  hell.  They  won't  go  home  without  it." 

"  Give  'em  hell,  that's  it !  "  echoed  Jim. 

"Give  'em  hell?"  replied  Vaughan  bewildered; 
"  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Mean?  Why,  give  'em  some  chin-music,  hot  on 
both  sides  and  sulphur  between.  Give  'em  hell!  And 
be  damn  quick  about  it.  The  crowd's  gettin' 
nervous  !  "  The  Committee  edged  back  to  their  places. 

So  that  was  what  they  wanted — judgment,  not 
eulogy,  not  temporizing,  not  evasion — something 


t  CHARLEY  DAVENPORT'S  FUNERAL  89 

direct,  peremptory,  something  that  scarified  and 
made  clean.  They  wanted  fire,  they  wanted  hell. 
Very  well,  they  should  have  it. 

He  let  his  eyes  wander  over  the  crowd  to  the  man 
on  the  farthest  edge,  who  proved  to  be  Martin  Young, 
watching  him  with  a  cynical  smile.  Then  he  stretched 
out  his  hands  as  if  he  would  clasp  and  hold  them  and 
began : 

"  My  friends — Charley  Davenport  is  dead!  He  is, 
as  you  say,  '  out  of  the  game.'  Touch  his  hand — 
there  is  no  returning  pressure.  Speak  to  him — he 
does  not  answer.  When  did  that  ever  happen  before? 
When  did  he  ever  until  now  meet  you  without  a 
hearty  hand-grip?  When  did  he  ever  fail  to 
reply  ? 

"  A  new  thing  has  happened  to  him.  He  cannot  stir 
hand  or  foot.  He  cannot  speak.  He  is  dead.  He 
isn't  there  any  more!  He  has  gone! 

"  Gone  where?  you  ask.  I  will  tell  you.  He  has 
gone  to  be  judged!  He  has  gone  where  the  book  of 
his  life  will  be  opened,  where  his  account  will  be 
read,  where  he  will  see  at  last  what  he  has  been  and 
done  from  the  beginning,  where  he  will  be  paid  his 
wages ! 

"  Sometime,  perhaps  very  soon,  this  will  happen  to 
you.  They  will  touch  your  hand  and  will  let  it  fall, 
a  limp,  cold  thing!  They  will  speak  to  you  and  get 
no  answer.  You  will  be  dead.  You  will  have  gone, 
like  him,  to  get  your  wages.  You  try  not  to  believe 


90  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

this,  to  run  away  from  the  fact,  but  it's  there,  born 
with  you.  You  can't  escape  it.  ... 

"  More  than  that. — Some  of  you — are  very  nearly 
dead,  already! 

"  You  don't  believe  it  ?  Deny  it  if  you  can,  you  who 
sink  into  the  apathy  of  drunkenness  and  lie  in  a 
torpor  and  drag  yourselves  out,  as  from  a  grave! 
Deny  it,  if  you  can,  you  who  whip  a  jaded  passion 
till  it  fails  to  respond! 

"  You  are  dead,  I  tell  you,  nine-tenths  dead,  and 
death  is  creeping  over  you  like  paralysis  to  take  the 
other  tenth!  .  .  .  Why  are  you  taking  your 
wages  before  the  time,  the  wages  of  sin  which  is 
death?  Can  you  not  wait  for  your  hell?  Must  you 
have  it  now?  " 

Breathless  silence  held  the  vast  company.  They 
were  getting  what  they  wanted.  "  That's  right.  Go 
ahead,"  they  seemed  to  say.  He  could  not  make  it  too 
strong  for  them.  Frank  Henley's  words  came  back 
to  him.  "  They  are  great  wide-open  mouths  and 
stomachs."  Even  their  religion  must  "  go  down 
like  a  buzz-saw,"  as  the  cowboy  demanded  of  his 
dram. 

Very  well,  they  should  have  it,  "  righteousness  and 
— judgment  to  come."  He  would  cause  them  to 
tremble,  as  Paul  caused  Felix.  More  fervid  grew  his 
words,  louder  rang  his  voice,  then  sank  to  winning 
tenderness,  as  he  urged  them  to  consider  "  the  gift 
of  God,"  as  opposed  to  the  "  wages  of  sin " ;  be- 


CHARLEY  DAVENPORT'S  FUNERAL  91 

sought  them  to  lay  hold  upon  it — for  it  was  eternal 
life,  as  surely  as  the  other  was  death. 

While  the  stir  of  satisfaction  was  yet  percepti 
ble  throughout  the  throng,  the  Committee  per 
formed  their  final  and  by  no  means  least  important 
function.  They  quickly  whipped  off  their  hats  and 
presented  them  to  each  individual  present,  moving 
rapidly  from  group  to  group. 

"  Here  you  be,"  said  Bill,  pressing  silver  and  gold 
and  paper  into  the  Parson's  hand.  "  Seventy-three 
dollars  and  two  bits,"  he  said,  shaking  the  hand  and 
its  contents.  "  You  done  it  up  brown,  Parson,  that's 
what  you  did.  If  Charley  ain't  sittin'  on  a  cloud  with 
a  harp  and  a  crown,  singin'  '  Hallelujah,'  'tain't  our 
fault.  Yer  jaw  panned  out  when  you  opened  it.  I 
hope  you'll  be  on  hand  to  plant  me  when  my  time 
comes." 

He  darted  away  to  his  place  in  the  procession 
already  moving  circumspectly  away.  At  the  foot  of 
the  hill  they  broke  ranks  and  separated,  some  to 
return  to  work,  some  to  talk  over  what  they  had  seen 
and  heard,  some  to  "  liquor."  But  there  was  no 
dancing  that  afternoon  and  evening,  and  there  was 
very  little  card-playing. 

The  undertaker  drove  Vaughan  to  the  church  and 
entered  with  him,  to  make  sure  that  his  assistants  had 
left  everything  in  order.  Nothing  had  been  done; 
the  trestle  on  which  the  coffin  had  rested  still  stood 
below  the  platform,  the  chairs  were  huddled  together 


92  THE    SAGE   BRUSH    PARSON 

as  they  had  been  pushed  about  to  make  way  for  the 
formal  entry  of  the  Orders.  The  undertaker  strode 
up  and  down  and  fumed.  Soon  the  young  men  came 
running  in. 

"  We  wanted  to  see  the  show,"  they  replied  to  his 
fault-finding.  "  But  say,  warn't  it  great ! "  They 
began  zealously  to  restore  order. 

Vaughan  fidgeted  from  church  to  study  and  back 
again.  It  was  impossible  to  settle  down  to  any 
definite  work.  He  wished  that  he  could  talk  over 
the  events  of  the  afternoon  with  someone  who  would 
understand  and  sympathize.  He  wished  the  Henley s 
were  within  reach.  If  Galena  were  not  so  far,  or  if 
he  had  Black  Birdie,  he  would  go  to  them. 

He  wondered  if  the  charming  woman  on  Richmond 
Hill  really  meant  what  she  said  about  his  coming 
again.  He  had  half  a  mind  to  put  her  to  the  test. 
Restless,  irresolute,  he  wandered  to  and  fro,  went  to 
the  door  and  looked  out,  returned,  and  finished  by 
seizing  his  hat  and  making  for  Richmond  Hill. 


CHAPTER    X 

CONFIDENCES 

A  Clement  began  to  climb  the  hill,  he  met 
Mrs.  Chisholm's  iron  gray  horses  and  hand 
some  buckboard  coming  down.  Jerry  was 
driving.  On  the  seat  with  him  were  the  two  little 
girls.  Mrs.  Sinclair  and  Miss  Emmeline  were  behind. 
Jerry's  greeting  with  his  upraised  whip-arm  was  pro 
found  and  portentous.  The  ladies  smiled  graciously. 
Elsie  turned  a  look  of  anguish  upon  him  and  was  for 
stopping  the  horses,  but  her  aunts  intervened,  and 
they  drove  on. 

They  were  evidently  off  for  a  long  drive.  Mrs. 
Chisholm  would  be  alone,  then.  He  quickened  his 
steps.  Nora  let  him  in,  all  smiles  and  blushes. 

Katharine  came  promptly,  and  there  was  no  mis 
taking  the  sincerity  of  her  welcome. 

"  I've  been  hearing  about  the  funeral  from  Mr. 
Lacey  and  Mr.  Squires,"  she  said,  indicating  the 
senator  and  the  ex-governor  who  had  lent  dignity  to 
the  body  of  Masons.  "  They  think  that  was  the  most 
wonderful  funeral  sermon  they  ever  heard  preached. 
Jerry — well,  Jerry  is  almost  as  excited  as  Nora  was 

93 


94  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

after  the  rescue.  He's  trying  to  make  you  out  a  good 
Catholic.  He  says  you  believe  in  Purgatory,  any 
way." 

"  They  wouldn't  have  anything  else ;  only  they 
didn't  call  it  by  that  name,"  said  Vaughan  with  a 
shrug.  He  looked  about  for  a  seat. 

"  Sit  here  by  the  window,"  she  urged,  "  while  I 
bring  a  fan  and — a  mint- julep?  " 

"  What  is  that?  " 

"  Brandy  and — oh,  you  wouldn't  care  for  it ! 
Nora  will  make  you  some  lemonade."  She  floated 
away,  a  refreshing  vision  in  her  cool  muslins,  and  soon 
returned  with  two  fans. 

"  Do  you  let  them  order  what  they  like  for  ser 
mons?  "  she  inquired  with  a  smile,  giving  him  one  fan 
and  plying  the  other. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  answered,  joining  her  in  a  wav 
ing  duet.  "  I  find  it  as  well  to  give  them  their  sort  of 
a  God  as  to  insist  upon  their  taking  mine.  Theirs  is 
a  Consuming  Fire,  as  they  took  pains  to  let  me  know. 
They  asked  me  to  give  them — Hell !  "  He  hesitated 
a  little  over  the  word.  It  did  not  trouble  her  in  the 
least. 

"  We  all  want  that  sometimes,  don't  we  ? "  she 
asked,  looking  up  brightly,  "to  be  burnt  out,  and 
started  over  again?  " 

"  I  haven't  made  myself  believe,  yet,  in  the  start 
ing  over,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  believe  in  the  severity 
of  God." 


CONFIDENCES  95 


"  But  not  in  His  mercy  ?  Oh,  you  want  to  get  your 
dues — both  ways." 

"  Pardon  me,  are  you  a  Romanist  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  I'm  what  you  would  call  a  Church  of  Eng 
land  woman.  But  it's  the  American  product.  Here 
comes  Nora.  On  the  little  table,  Nora.  That's 
right." 

Nora  set  down  her  tempting  load:  silver  and 
crystal,  a  tall  flagon  through  whose  transparent  sides 
slices  of  lemon  showed  alluringly,  slender  glasses  filled 
with  ice,  a  plate  of  fragrant  little  cakes. 

Katharine  took  up  the  flagon  and  a  glass  and  let 
the  lemonade  drip  deliciously  over  the  ice.  She  was 
quite  conscious  that  the  eyes  of  her  guest  were  rov 
ing  past  her,  over  the  room,  and  when  she  gave  him  his 
glass  she  answered  his  unuttered  question. 

"  You  haven't  been  in  this  room  before.  It  is  my 
own  sitting-room.  I  told  Nora  to  bring  you  in  here 
so  that  we  should  not  be  disturbed.  That  is  a  rather 
good  Prometheus  over  the  piano,  and  the  Undine  is 
considered  fine.  The  rest  are  views  I've  picked  up 
here  and  there." 

"It's  charming,"  he  murmured,  letting  his  eyes 
again  wander,  and  again  return  to  the  woman  before 
him,  with  her  rose-flush,  her  shifting  beauty  of 
expression.  What  could  be  farther  removed  from  the 
scenes  he  had  left?  His  senses  responded  as  to  faintly 
heard  music.  He  yearned  to  put  into  someJ'orm  what 
he  felt;  but  in  words — would  it  not  sound  absurd; 
exaggerated? 


96  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"Isn't  it  right?"  she  inquired,  pointing  to  the 
lemonade. 

"  Yes,  delightful,"  he  answered,  sipping  it.  "  Too 
delightful.  Everything  is.  It's  the  contrast  which 
upsets  me.  I've  had  such  a  day !  " 

"I  know,  it  must  have  been  terrible,"  she  sighed, 
and  gazed  at  him  with  sudden  earnestness.  "  Mr. 
Vaughan,  how  did  you  happen  to  come  to  such  a 
place?" 

He  returned  the  look  with  one  as  earnest, 
"  Would  it  surprise  you  very  much  to  learn  that  I 
came  because  I  thought  God  wanted  me  to?  "  The 
words  sounded  far-fetched  to  him,  crudely  senti 
mental. 

"  It  wouldn't  surprise  me — in  you,"  she  answered. 

What  did  she  mean?  What  was  she  thinking, 
with  that  intent  look  in  her  eyes ?  Just  this.  "Poor 
Tristram!  Where  is  he?  The  Holy  Father  will 
put  him  into  sackcloth  and  strew  ashes  on  him — 
unless  someone  interferes." 

But  what  she  said  was,  "  How  can  you  be  sure? 
You  may  be  mistaken.  People  have  been,  about  such 
things !  " 

That  was  like  Delia!  He  would  have  liked  to  tell 
her  about  Delia.  He  felt  that  she  would  understand 
and  sympathize,  would  not  blame  Delia  too  much. 
Sometime  he  would  tell  her  the  whole  story.  Mean 
while  he  ^.as  quite  willing  to  lead  up  to  it  with  con 
fidences  about  himself.  So  when  she  asked  again, 


CONFIDENCES  97 

"  How  could  you  be  sure  ?  "  he  answered  with  straight 
forward  simplicity.  "One  can  never  be  sure,  but 
I'd  rather  make  the  mistake  than  miss  the  oppor 
tunity," 

She  kindled  into  sudden  enthusiasm.  "  Do  you 
know  how  great  it  is  of  you  to  say  that?  I  don't 
believe  there  is  another  man  of  my  acquaintance  who 
would  risk  so  much.  Do  you  know — you  are  very 
different  from  other  men  ?  " 

"  Am  I  ?  "  he  queried,  with  a  little  wistful  smile 
which  she  found  irresistibly  appealing.  "Perhaps 
so.  Yet  I've  tried  to  enter  into  their  lives,  have 
worked  in  the  mines,  lived  as  they  did,  tried  to  feel 
as  they  feel " 

"  You  can't !  "  she  interrupted.    "  How  can  you  ?  " 

"  But  I  must,"  he  insisted.  "  If  I'm  to  help  them, 
if  I  am  to  make  myself  understood,  find  the  right 
word  for  the  right  thought " 

His  face  took  on  the  rapt  expression  which  came 
to  it  at  times.  She  mused  again.  "  It's  of  no  use. 
The  Holy  Father  has  him  down.  Poor  Tristram. 
No  power  on  earth  can  save  him.  Oh,  what  a  frivo 
lous  life  I've  led!" 

Suddenly  his  entire  manner  changed.  "  Do  you 
mind  if  I  try  that  piano?"  he  burst  out.  "I've 
been  dying  to,  ever  since  I  came  into  the  room." 

"Do/  I  should  be  delighted!"  They  sprang  up 
simultaneously.  He  seated  himself  before  the  instru 
ment,  the  skirts  of  his  long  coat  trailing  to  the  floor, 


98  THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

threw  back  his  head,  ran  his  fingers  lovingly  over  the 
keys  and  broke  into  a  song — no  hymn,  but  a  chanson 
vieille  of  a  shepherd  and  a  maid. 

Standing  beside  him,  she  watched  his  cheeks  pale 
and  his  eyes  kindle,  caught  the  sway  of  the  pliant 
figure,  the  clinging  touch  of  the  magnetic  hands. 
Where  was  the  Holy  Father  now,  the  psalm-singing 
Methodist,  the  Sage  Brush  Parson? 

The  stifled  emotions  of  the  day,  the  week,  the 
year,  were  having  their  way  with  him:  indeed  it 
seemed  to  him  at  the  moment  that  he  had  never  found 
full  expression  until  now.  How  much  of  it  was  due 
to  the  influence  of  the  place,  the  woman,  he  could  not 
tell.  It  might  have  come  anyhow,  anywhere,  sooner 
or  later.  He  did  not  know,  he  did  not  care.  He  was 
singing  his  heart  out,  that  was  enough,  his  over 
burdened,  over- troubled,  struggling,  stinted  heart, 
and  the  being  who  stood  beside  him  in  her  delicate 
draperies,  with  her  clear,  penetrating  eyes,  might 
be  angel  or  woman — he  did  not  know,  he  did  not  care. 
He  only  knew  she  let  him  be  himself,  have  his  way, 
throw  off  the  load,  draw  long  breaths,  sing  his  song, 
be  free!  And  he  was  grateful  to  her,  as  a  hungry 
plant  is  to  the  sky  for  the  sun  and  the  rain. 

"  You  are  a  musician ! "  she  said,  as  one  would 
say,  "I  know  you,  now." 

"  Born  and  bred,"  he  assented,  letting  his  fingers 
linger  among  the  chords.  "  As  children,"  he  lifted 
his  eyes  to  hers,  "  we  were  sometimes  hungry,  but 


CONFIDENCES  99 

there  was  a  musical  instrument  in  every  room,  and  we 
had  the  latest  music." 

«  Yet " 

"  Yet  they  trained  me  to  the  work  I  am  doing." 

"Your  father?" 

"  Was  a  cooper  and  basket-maker." 

"Your  mother?" 

"  Almost  as  poor  as  he.  Their  fathers  were  spend 
thrifts — and  worse." 

"  So  they  offered  their  son  as  an  atonement  1 " 

"  They  offered  themselves." 

His  fingers  wandered  over  the  keys. 

"  Did  you  ever  conduct?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

"Yes,  why?" 

"  I  knew  you  could,  Mr.  Vaughan,"  her  voice 
was  vibrant  with  feeling,  "  I  don't  believe  God  ever 
wanted  you  to  be  sacrificed  in  this  way.  You  don't 
know.  You  haven't  really  lived  the  life  yet.  It  is 
horrible.  We  have  had  merely  glimpses  of  it,  Arthur 
and  I,  and  Mr.  Chisholm  when  he  was  alive,  and  only 
at  intervals — not  near,  not  intimately,  as  you  will 
have  it.  And  we  have  felt  that  we  could  not  endure 
the  remote  suggestion  of  it  more  than  a  few  months 
at  a  time.  We  are  by  ourselves,  we  drive  and  ride 
and  enjoy  each  other,  have  our  leisure,  our  books. 
We  are  not,  any  one  of  us,  as  sensitive  as  you 
are." 

He  withdrew  his  hands  from  the  keys  and  sat  in 
silence  looking  up  at  the  Prometheus.  Chained  to 


100         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

a  great  rock  lay  the  Titan,  and  around  him  Spirits 
of  the  Wave  and  of  the  Air  bewailed  his  fate. 

"I've  always  been  afraid  it  was  too  big  for  me," 
he  said  at  length,  "  but  the  very  bigness  of  it  tempts 
me.  Others  besides  the  Titan  have  brought  down 
fire." 

"  And  paid  the  penalty,"  she  finished. 

"  And  paid  the  penalty,"  he  repeated,  striking 
into  a  plaintive  little  melody. 

"  What  is  that?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  "  It  has  been 
haunting  me  ever  since  I  sat  here."  He  played  it 
again. 

"Not  that  way!"  she  called.  "You  didn't  play 
it  like  that,  before." 

"  This  way  ?  "     He  tried  once  more. 

"  Yes,  yes.    Oh,  I  wish  I  could  remember  that." 

"I  could  write  it  out?" 

"Will  you?    Now?" 

She  brought  paper  and  pencil.  He  drew  the  staff, 
made  the  signs,  with  quick,  nervous  strokes,  put  in 
some  notes,  tried  a  bar  or  two,  put  in  more  notes, 
tried  these,  and  finally  played  it  all  over  from  the 
beginning. 

"  Is  that  as  I  had  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  I  wonder — what  words 
belong  to  it !  " 

"  You  ought  to  be  able  to  find  that  out  for  me," 
he  said. 


CONFIDENCES  101 

"  I  used  to  write  verses,  when  I  was  at  school 
in  France,"  she  returned.  "  But  I  was  homesick 
then." 

"  Can't  you  imagine  yourself  in  France  and  home 
sick?" 

"  I  could  if  you  kept  on  singing." 

He  began  again,  a  pensive  Lied,  but  before  he  had 
sung  a  dozen  bars  a  child's  shrill  voice  piped  up 
loudly  in  the  hall. 

"Where  is  he?  Has  he  gone?  I  will,  too,  go  in 
there,  Nora  Flynn!  He  was  my  C.  V.  first."  Then 
there  came  an  outburst  of  sobs. 

Katharine  opened  the  door.  "  What  does  this 
mean  ? "  she  inquired  sternly.  "  Elsie,  I  am  sur 
prised  ! " 

Elsie  winked  away  the  tears.  She  did  not  answer, 
but  sidled  past  her  mother  and  slid  into  Vaughan's 
arms. 

"  Mr.  Vaughan  won't  love  any  little  girl  that 
behaves  as  badly  as  you  do,"  said  Katharine  dis 
approvingly. 

"  He  loves  me ;  don't  you,  C.  V.  ? "  implored 
Elsie,  with  both  arms  around  his  neck.  He  whispered 
something  in  her  ear.  She  stood  up,  smiling. 
"  'Scuse  me,"  she  said  to  her  mother,  and  would  then 
have  returned  to  his  knee,  but  he  had  risen  and  was 
holding  out  his  hand. 

"  I  owe  you  thanks,"  he  said  to  Katharine,  "  more 
than  I  can  tell,  for  what  you  have  given  me — more 


102         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

than  you  can  realize."  He  stooped  and  kissed  the 
child.  Katharine  followed  him  to  the  door. 

Arthur  and  Ned  Wilkins  were  coming  up  the  walk. 
They  stopped  on  the  veranda,  urged  Vaughan  to 
return  and,  failing  that,  held  him  in  conversation  for 
some  minutes.  Katharine  watched  them  from  the 
window,  until  the  tall,  slender  figure  in  the  black 
frock-coat  left  them  and  went  swiftly  down  the  hill. 
Then  she  returned  to  the  piano  and  the  sheet  of  paper 
with  the  few  hastily  written  bars  of  music  on  it.  She 
did  not  play  them  over,  but  sat  looking  at  them,  her 
hands  on  her  lap.  What  a  strange,  strange  man! 
What  was  he?  How  did  he  come  to  be — himself? 
Was  he  old?  Was  he  young?  He  was  grave,  with 
the  gravity  of  age,  light  with  the  lightness  of  youth. 
The  furrows  of  age  were  in  his  forehead,  but  through 
the  silken  beard  which  veiled  but  did  not  conceal  them, 
one  caught  the  curve  of  a  scarlet  lip,  the  flash  of 
white  teeth  belonging  to  youth.  His  eyes  were  gray, 
brown,  black — how  they  changed!  And  they  held  in 
their  depths  the  despair  of  the  world,  held,  too,  life 
and  laughter  and  the  appeal  of  the  born  lover.  Did 
he  know  that? 

All  white  and  black  he  was,  so  very  white,  so  very 
black — white  brow,  heavy,  curling  black  hair — his 
hands  were  brown,  he  had  worked  with  them,  he  said. 
They  did  not  show  it.  What  hands,  instinct  with 
life,  emotion,  fire,  your  true  musician's  hands !  How 
did  it  happen  that  she  had  not  seen  him  fairly  until 


CONFIDENCES  103 

to-day?  Was  it  because  she  had  not  looked?  Or 
did  he  require  the  atmosphere  of  music  to  reveal  him 
self?  Or  was  he  indeed  three  men,  at  least,  seen  in 
these  three  visits  to  the  house?  And  in  which  was 
he  most  himself? 

These  were  only  a  few  of  the  questions  Katharine 
asked  herself  that  night  and  successive  days  and 
nights,  when  she  was  far  from  Eureka,  yet  remem 
bering  it  as  she  had  never  remembered  it  before  dur 
ing  her  many  absences. 

The  church  was  dim  when  Vaughan  entered  it,  but 
a  light  shone  outward  from  the  study.  A  figure 
appeared  in  the  doorway  and  a  voice  called,  "  There 
he  is  now."  Another  figure  appeared,  and  another 
voice,  thickened  by  drink,  cried,  "  H'w'are  ye,  Par 
son?  Don' 'member  me?  I'm  Addison." 

"  He  ain't  got  so  much  down  but  what  he  knows 
his  own  name,"  drawled  his  companion,  who  proved 
to  be  the  cowboy  Dick. 

"  '  When  shall  we  three  meet  again '  ?  "  he  chanted. 
He  threw  off  a  jacket  tied  around  his  neck  by  the 
sleeves. 

"  Hard  luck  again,  Parson.  Dislocated  shoulder, 
this  time.  Foolin',  up  at  Jack's.  I  didn't  dare  let 
Doc  set  it,  alone.  I  made  him  bring  me  down  here." 

"  Puffec'ly  com'tent,"  declared  Addison,  blinking 
at  the  lamp.  "  One,  two,  three  degrees — four,  five 
— how  many  degrees  I  took,  Dicky  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  your  degrees ;  come  here  and  set  this 


104         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

shoulder,"    exclaimed  the   cowboy.     "Parson,   you'll 
see  he  does  it  right,  won't  you?  " 

Vaughan  promised  and  Addison  began  to  work  the 
arm.  At  the  first  twinge  "  Cussin'  Dick  "  made  good 
his  name. 

Vaughan's  nerves,  already  over-tired,  rebelled. 
"  If  you  don't  stop  that,"  he  broke  in,  "  I'll  leave  you 
to  get  out  of  this  scrape  the  best  way  you  can." 

"  Stop  what?  "  inquired  the  cowboy  in  surprise. 

"  Swearing." 

"  Was  I  swearing?  I  didn't  know  it.  Excuse  me, 
Parson.  I'll  try  not  to  any  more." 

"  Don'  do  any  good,  Dicky."  Addison  wagged 
his  head  solemnly  from  side  to  side.  "  Swearin's 
damn  poor  business,  't  any  time." 

"  Go  on,  you !  "  Dick  paused  with  a  comi 
cally  helpless  look. 

Addison  proceeded.  Dick  set  his  teeth.  The  bone 
shot  into  place.  Beads  of  perspiration  stood  on  the 
sufferer's  forehead,  but  he  uttered  not  a  word.  They 
bandaged  him  and  threw  the  jacket  again  over  his 
shoulders. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  now?  "  asked  Vaughan. 

"Over  to  the  Widder  McClintock's  boarding- 
house,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Vaughan. 

"  So'll  I,"  affirmed  Addison  affectionately,  "  I'll 
never  leave  you,  Dicky,  never — till  I  get  my  dollar 
'n  a  half." 


CONFIDENCES  105 

"  We'll  shake  him,  outside,"  whispered  Dick.  But 
Addison  dropped  off  voluntarily  at  the  door,  mutter 
ing  as  he  zigzagged  down  the  street,  "  Good  fellers, 
both  of  'em,  but  too  damn  rapid  for  me.  I  have  to 
go  slow." 

"  The  Widder  "  had  cleared  the  dining-room  and 
set  the  table  for  breakfast,  but  she  graciously  per 
mitted  the  latecomers  to  occupy  a  place  at  one  end. 
Her  sister  waited  on  them.  She  was,  if  possible,  more 
unattractive  than  "  the  Widder."  When  she  had 
supplied  their  needs  she  drew  a  chair  beside  Dick. 
"  The  Widder  "  took  the  other  side  of  him.  They 
quite  ignored  the  Parson.  The  disabled  man  must  not 
think  of  going  back  to  the  ranch,  they  said.  He 
had  been  acting  as  foreman  for  Shed  Wellman.  They 
would  take  care  of  him  until  he  was  in  shape,  the  very 
best  care  in  the  world. 

"  How  can  he  endure  those  creatures ! "  thought 
Vaughan. 

He  hurried  through  supper  and  returned  to  his 
quiet  study,  there  to  review  the  occurrences  of  the 
day,  choosing  what  he  would  to  think  over,  letting 
what  he  would  sink  into  oblivion.  Among  the  things 
he  chose  to  forget  were  the  funeral  and  the  dislocated 
shoulder  and  the  boarding-house.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  dwelt  lingeringly  and  with  the  same  comfortable 
sensation  he  had  experienced  when  with  her,  upon  his 
confidences  with  Katharine. 


CHAPTER  XI 

JACK    AND    MAT    "  COME    INTO    THE    GAME  " 

A10NG   other   devices    for   "  running    the   ma 
chine,"    Vaughan's    predecessor    had   had    a 
number  of  small  cards  printed  and  tacked  on 
the  front  of  each  pew  stating,  "This  Church  De 
pends  For  Its  Support  Upon  Voluntary  Contribu 
tions." 

Whenever  the  present  incumbent  saw  this  state 
ment  he  was  reminded  of  a  dog  he  once  owned,  which 
used  to  nudge  him  and  then  sit  up  and  beg.  The 
trick  availed  with  the  dog.  It  had  not  been  worth 
much  to  the  church.  Apart  from  Jack's  collection 
the  night  he  served  as  "  deaking  "  and  the  money  Bill 
had  gathered  in  his  hat  the  day  of  Charley  Daven 
port's  funeral,  the  gross  receipts  had  been  small.  The 
young  preacher  lost  no  sleep  over  this  condition  of 
affairs.  The  expense  of  running  the  church  was 
slight;  for  his  own  living  he  demanded  very  little. 
Until  winter  should  bring  the  added  cost  of  fuel  and 
lights,  they  would  worry  along.  So  he  reasoned. 

Not  so  Jack  Perry  and  Mat  Kyle.  They  conferred, 
long  and  earnestly,  one  evening  at  the  saloon. 

"  He  ain't  goin'  to  be  able  to  pull  it  off  alone,"  said 
Jack. 

106 


JACK  AND  MAT  "INTO  THE  GAME"     107 

"  That's  so,"  said  Mat. 

"  You  and  me,"  said  Jack,  "  will  have  to  come  Into 
the  game." 

They  formulated  a  plan  and,  while  it  was  still  fresh 
and  attractive,  carried  it  down  to  the  Parson's  study. 

"  Parson,"  drawled  Jack  as  soon  as  they  were 
seated,  "  me  and  Mat  have  decided  that  we  wanter 
take  a  chance  in  your  hanky-panky  business,  here." 

"  The  church  ?  "  asked  Vaughan,  who  was  not  so 
slow  in  "  tumbling  to  it "  as  before  the  occurrences 
of  the  past  few  weeks.  "  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  you 
express  an  interest."  He  awaited  further  explana 
tion. 

"  We  wanter  ketch  hold,"  pursued  Jack,  while 
Mat's  round,  good-humored  face  assumed  an  ex 
pression  of  genial  sympathy.  "  There  ain't  much 
doin'  at  present,  that  we  can  figger  on,"  Jack  con 
tinued,  "  but  a  sociable  always  hits  'em  fust-rate. 
What  d'ye  think  of  havin'  a  sociable,  Parson  ?  " 

"  It  might  be  a  very  good  idea,"  said  the  Parson. 

66  What  we  propose  is  this,"  concluded  the  speaker. 
"  We'll  have  a  sociable.  You  and  your  hanky-pank}' 
crowd  take  it  and  run  it  till,  say,  nine-thirty,  then  you 
and  your  shift  turn  it  over  to  the  night  shift — that's 
Mat  and  me.  Next  morning  we'll  stand  for  two  hun 
dred  apiece.  Ain't  that  right,  Mat?  " 

"  That's  right,"  agreed  Mat. 

"  But  why  should  I  retire  with  my  'shift'?  "  in 
quired  the  Parson.  "  Would  you — dance?  " 


108        THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Jack. 

"And  drink?" 

"  Well,  there'd  have  to  be  lemonade  with  a  stick  in 
it.  You  couldn't  ask  the  boys  in  and  not  give  'em 
something  for  their  money." 

"  Dancing  and  drinking,"  deliberated  Vaughan. 
"  To  help  me  run  my  church,  when  my  church  is  here 
to  oppose  dancing  and  drinking!  No,  gentlemen,  I 
thank  you  for  your  good  intentions,  but  I  can't  ac 
cept.  See  here,  how  much  respect  would  you  have  for 
me  if  I  did  such  a  thing  as  that?  I  can't  afford  to 
lose  your  respect  for  four  hundred  dollars." 

"Well,  now,  who'd  a  thought  of  putting  it  that 
way ! "  exclaimed  Mat. 

"  He's  got  us ! "  cried  Jack,  slapping  his  knee. 
"  But  look-a-here.  I  don't  like  to  fall  off  the  dock 
this  way.  I'd  made  up  my  mind  to  come  into  the 
game.  What  d'ye  say,  Mat,  suppose  we  ante,  any 
how?"  He  drew  a  ten-dollar  gold-piece  from  his 
pocket  and  laid  it  on  the  desk.  "  I'm  good  for  that 
once  a  month,"  he  said. 

"  I'm  with  ye,"  said  Mat,  producing  a  saltbag  and 
from  it  laboriously  extracting  five  silver  dollars  and  a 
five-dollar  gold-piece.  He  spread  them  in  a  row  be 
side  Jack's  offering,  then  looked  inquiringly  at  Jack. 

"  I'm  not  goin'  yet,"  said  Jack.  "  I've  got  a  little 
fault  to  find  with  last  Sunday's  sermon.  I've  noticed 
that  the  first  thing  you  do  when  you  start  in  to  be  a 
'  pillar  of  the  church  '  is  to  begin  to  kick !  "  There 


JACK  AND  MAT  "INTO  THE  GAME"     109 

was  a  humorous  twinkle  in  Jack's  steel-gray  eyes 
which  endured  until  Mat  had  left  the  room ;  but  it  en 
tirely  disappeared  when  he  found  himself  alone  with 
the  Parson.  Cool  and  clear  to  their  depths  and  full 
of  the  purpose  of  a  man  in  the  habit  of  "  seeing  things 
through  "  were  those  strange,  quiet  eyes.  When  he 
spoke,  however,  it  was  in  his  customary  drawl. 

"  Parson,"  he  began,  "  I've  follered  you  pretty 
close  since  you've  come  to  this  camp.  I've  watched 
ye,  in  an'  out,  an'  up  an'  down,  and  I  guess,  on  the 
whole,  you're  pretty  level-headed.  But  sometimes 
I'm  inclined  to  think  you  fool  yourself." 

"  Possibly,"  granted  Vaughan,  wondering  what  was 
coming  next.  "  Probably.  Most  of  us  do  fool  our 
selves." 

"  I  don't,"  said  Jack  quickly.  "  I  can't.  I  ain't 
educated.  I  ain't  got  religion.  But  one  thing  was 
given  me  at  the  start,  to  see  clear.  I  can't  tell  what 
I  see,  always,  not  the  whole  of  it." 

"  We  can't  any  of  us  do  that,"  returned  Vaughan. 

"  That's  just  why  I'm  going  to  ask  you  a  few  ques 
tions,"  said  Jack.  "  You  prob'ly  don't  tell  the  whole 
of  what  you  saw,  and  I  wanter  hear  the  rest  of  it, 
Do  you  remember  what  you  preached  about  ?  " 

"  Special  Providences,"  returned  the  preacher,  to 
whom  every  sermon  was  a  distinct,  definite,  extraordi 
nary  product. 

"  That's  it,"  said  Jack.  "  Special  Interference  on 
the  part  of  The  Old  Gentleman  Above."  The  re- 


110         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

spectful  tone  in  which  he  bestowed  upon  the  Deity 
this  title  and  the  deprecating  upward  movement  of  his 
hands  took  from  it  any  savor  of  irreverence.  It  re 
called  to  the  hearer  old  engravings  he  had  seen  rep 
resenting  the  First  Person  of  the  Godhead  sitting  on 
a  cloudy  throne,  an  ancient,  patriarchal  figure  with  a 
flowing,  grizzled  beard  and  a  general  expression  of 
benevolence  and  wisdom.  He  therefore  made  no  at 
tempt  to  correct  the  impression  or  change  the  phras 
eology.  Indeed,  Jack's  was  not  a  nature  to  invite 
correction  in  a  matter  of  this  sort. 

"  You  made  out  that  the  Old  Gentleman  had  His 
favorites,"  continued  Jack,  "  and  I  don't  say  but 
what  He  has.  You  told  about  that  preaching  boss 
being  saved  in  the  car  wreck — do  you  recollect?  You 
told  some  other  pretty  tall  yarns  about  this  one  and 
that  who  was  pertected.  But  I  could  match  'em. 

"  I  could  give  just  as  many  argyments  on  the  other 
side.  For  instance,  there  was  that  cave-in,  up  there 
at  Virginia  City,  in  one  of  the  mines.  Some  of  the 
miners  were  killed,  some  wasn't.  Among  them  that 
wasn't  was  a  religious  cuss  named  Luke.  He  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  church  members  had  a  regular  rejoicin', 
whooped  her  up  good  because  a  '  special  providence ' 
took  care  of  Luke. 

"  But  damn  it,  when  there  was  another  cave-in  and 
another  church  member  come  up  dead,  the  same  gang 
had  to  go  and  howl  and  wonder  at  the  '  awful  dispen 
sation.' 


JACK  AND  MAT  "INTO  THE  GAME"     111 

"  Take  another  case.  Three  times  this  town's  ben 
swep'  by  fire.  The  wind  has  blown  the  flames  down 
the  canyon  and  cleaned  out  everything  except  my 
saloon,  and  that's  the  oldest  rattlety-bang  of  the  lot. 
All  your  hanky-panky  establishments,  put  up  spe 
cially  for  the  worship  of  The  Old  Gentleman,  were 
gutted.  Does  that  prove  I'm  a  favorite,  because  I've 
tried  to  run  a  decent  kind  of  a  place?  How  about 
your  gospel  mills?  What  made  Him  clean  those  out? 

"  Look  here,  too."  Jack  unbuttoned  his  shirt  and 
displayed  his  great,  hairy  chest,  scarred  by  knife 
thrust  and  pistol.  "  I'm  like  that  all  over  my  body. 
There  ain't  hardly  an  inch,  as  you  might  say,  that 
don't  tell  a  story.  What  brought  me  through  ?  Was 
it  a  '  Special  Providence  '  ?  I'm  inclined  to  think  so. 
But  how  about  the  other  feller?  " 

Vaughan  was  thinking;  he  was  thinking  fast  and 
hard. 

"  I  believe,  Jack,"  he  said  honestly,  "  I  shall  have 
to  preach  another  sermon.  I  do  believe  that  God  is 
with  His  saints,  that  He  protects  His  servants,  but 
what  you've  said  shows  me  that  I  believe  much  more. 
It  is  no  mark  of  Divine  disfavor  that  a  man  must 
suffer  and  die.  He  has  allowed  His  servants  to  be 
slain  from  time  immemorial.  Paul  writes  of  those  who 
'  had  trial  of  cruel  mockings  and  scourgings,  yea, 
moreover  of  bonds  and  imprisonment,  they  were 
stoned,  they  were  sawn  asunder,  were  tempted,  were 
slain  with  the  sword ;  they  wandered  about  in  sheep- 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


skins  and  goatskins,  being  destitute,  afflicted,  tor 
mented,  (of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy),  they 
wandered  in  deserts  and  in  mountains  and  in  dens  and 
caves  of  the  earth.'  " 

As  Vaughan  rehearsed  the  tragic,  stirring  words, 
his  features  took  on  the  look  they  sometimes  wore,  of 
realization,  of  prophecy. 

Jack  studied  him.  That  was  the  way  the  Parson 
looked  when  he  stood  before  Charley  Davenport's 
open  grave.  Was  he  like  the  men  of  old,  who  heard  a 
Voice  and  repeated  what  they  heard  ?  Was  he  one  to 
follow?  Would  he  lead  straight,  and  sure,  to  the 
Right  Place?  Jack  wondered.  But  he  revealed 
nothing  of  this.  His  expression  remained  inscru 
table,  his  eyes  continued  cold,  as  he  answered  easily  : 

"  They  got  it,  didn't  they  !  I  suppose  they  were 
so  dead  set  on  the  game  they  never  knew  what  hit 
them." 

"  Wonderful,  isn't  it  !  "  cried  Vaughan.  His  face 
still  wore  its  rapt  expression. 

"  Big  thing  !  "  said  Jack.  There  was  a  wistful  tone 
in  his  voice.  Jack  was  sixty  his  last  birthday.  Life 
was  taking  on  a  different  aspect  to  him  from  what  it 
wore  when  he  was  in  his  prime.  He  had  tried  some 
things,  had  seen  others  tried,  knew  how  worthless  they 
all  were.  He  would  like  to  get  hold  of  something 
different,  something  that  would  stay  with  a  man  when 
he  came  to  —  what  Charley  Davenport  came  to  the 
other  day. 


JACK  AND  MAT  "INTO  THE   GAME"     113 

He  stood  up  slowly.  The  bulk  of  him,  the  power 
of  him  under  the  light ! 

"What  have  I  to  give  such  a  man?"  thought 
Vaughan.  "  Must  you  go  ?  "  he  asked  boyishly. 

"I  must  get  back,"  replied  Jack  absent-mindedly. 
At  the  door  he  turned.  "  Say,  there's  one  thing 
you'd  orter  look  into,"  he  said,  coming  back. 
"Cussin'  Dick's  a-loafin'  'round  there  to  the  Widder 
McClintock's  altogether  too  long  for  his  own  good. 
Tell  him  to  go  'long  home  and  mind  his  business." 

"  Where  is  his  home  ?  " 

"I  don't  mean  home,  that's  East.  Out  at  Well- 
man's  ranch.  He's  been  actin'  as  foreman  there. 
Shed  will  dump  him  if  he's  fresh.  Dick's  too  good  a 
feller  to  be  roped  in  by  that  McClintock  crowd." 

"  He  might  not  listen  to  me,"  said  Vaughan  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Make  him.  That's  part  of  the  stunt — lookin* 
after  the  '  lost,  strayed  and  stolen,'  ain't  it?  "  queried 
Jack. 

"  Assuredly,"  said  Vaughan,  smiling. 

Jack  had  certainly  "come  into  the  game." 


CHAPTER  XII 

AN   UNLUCKY    BRIDEGROOM 

VAUGHAN  meant  to  keep  his  word  and  see 
what  could  be  done  about  extricating  Dick, 
but  was  prevented.  Before  he  was  out  of 
bed  the  next  morning  there  came  a  tap  at  the  window. 
Will  Dower  had  driven  down  from  Galena  the  previous 
day,  arriving  too  late  to  call  that  night.  Minnie 
Hollaway  had  sent  him.  Mrs.  Henley  was  ill, 
"  worn  out,"  Minnie  said.  Frank  was  discouraged 
about  her  and  Minnie  had  decided  to  send  for  the 
Parson. 

Will  spoke  as  if  he  were  already  one  of  the  family 
and  bound  to  "  take  an  interest." 

"  We  decided,"  he  said — the  pride,  the  proprietor 
ship  of  that  "  we  " — "  that  if  you  could  drive  back 
with  me,  just  for  a  day  or  so,  'twould  do  her  a  heap 
of  good." 

"  I'll  be  ready  immediately,"  replied  Vaughan, 
springing  out  of  bed.  "  Come  around  to  the  side 
door  and  I'll  let  you  in." 

While  he  dressed  and  packed  his  bag,  Will  made 
coffee,  under  his  directions,  on  the  little  oil-stove,  and 
set  out  a  lunch.  They  ate  hurriedly  and  were  off  be- 

114 


AN    UNLUCKY    BRIDEGROOM         115 

fore  the  intense  heat  of  the  Nevada  summer  should 
hinder  their  rapid  advance. 

It  was  a  bright  morning,  the  air  was  crystal-clear. 
Distance  there  was  none.  From  the  mountain,  over 
the  valley,  everything  was  near,  distinct.  There  were 
no  mysteries,  no  complexities.  Life  seemed  more 
livable,  duty  simply  going  straight  onward. 

"  Does  she  know  I'm  coming?  "  asked  Vaughan  as 
they  drew  up  before  the  door. 

"  She  didn't,  when  I  came  away,"  said  Will.  "  Per 
haps  they've  told  her.  There's  Min,  now." 

Miss  Hollaway  had  appeared  at  the  window.  She 
met  them  at  the  door,  accompanied  by  the  two  little 
girls. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  come ! "  she  said,  pressing 
Vaughan's  hand.  "  Yes,  she  knows.  You  can  go 
right  up." 

Mary  was  lying  on  a  couch  between  the  windows, 
every  shutter  open  to  catch  what  air  there  might  be 
stirring.  She  was  pale  and  worn,  but  her  face 
brightened  as  she  saw  Clement,  and  when  he  knelt  be 
side  the  couch  and  put  his  arms  around  her,  the  color 
came  flooding  back  into  her  thin  cheeks. 

Frank,  who  had  been  sitting  by  the  window,  arose 
and  stood  over  them,  curious  and  thoughtful. 

"  I  really  believe  it  was  you  that  she  wanted,  Clem," 
he  said  at  length.  "  If  you  were  anyone  else " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  count,"  interrupted  Clement  quickly. 
"What  are  you  giving  her?" 


116         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Frank  named  some  remedies  obtained  from  the 
doctor  at  Battle  Mountain,  who  had  driven  out  twice 
to  see  her. 

"  All  wrong,"  said  Clement.  "  Now,  I  have  some 
thing  in  my  bag — where  is  my  bag? "  Minnie 
brought  it.  "  A  glass  of  water  and  a  spoon,  please. 
Thank  you."  He  poured  a  few  drops  from  a  vial 
into  the  glass  and  himself  administered  the  first  dose. 
"  You'll  be  glad  some  day  that  I  studied  medicine,"  he 
said  to  Mary. 

"  Yes,  doctor,"  she  returned  happily  and  nestled 
down  among  her  pillows.  "  Sit  here  by  me  and  tell 
me  everything." 

Clement  drew  a  low  seat  beside  the  couch,  took  one 
of  the  worn,  white  hands  in  his  magnetic  brown  ones 
and  began  to  talk,  of  the  pleasant  experiences  he  had 
had,  making  them  sound  even  pleasanter. 

Frank  and  Minnie  left  the  room.  A  breeze  came 
up  and  shook  the  curtain.  Mary's  purple-veined  eye 
lids  fluttered  and  fell,  her  breathing  grew  deeper, 
more  even,  she  slept.  After  a  while  Minnie  softly 
opened  the  door  and  whispered  "  Dinner ! "  Clem 
ent  frowned.  She  hastily  withdrew  and  closed  it 
again. 

The  afternoon  wore  on.  The  sleeper  had  not 
stirred. 

At  last  her  lips  began  to  move  and  pucker  like  those 
of  a  hungry  child.  The  watcher  gently  laid  down  her 
hand  and  went  to  prepare  a  bowl  of  broth. 


AN    UNLUCKY    BRIDEGROOM         117 

"  You'll  do,  now,"  he  said,  when  she  had  greedily 
swallowed  the  last  mouthful. 

"  But  you "  began  Minnie,  who  had  followed 

him  into  the  room.  He  shook  his  head  at  her. 

Presently  he  joined  her  in  the  hall.  "  I'll  eat  every 
thing  you  have  in  the  house,  now,"  he  said  joyously. 
"  Bring  it  on." 

He  was  up  at  dawn  and  off  for  a  gallop  on  Black 
Birdie,  and  the  next  day  Will  drove  him  back  to 
Eureka. 

Mary  drew  him  down  to  her,  when  he  said  good- 
by,  and  detained  him  an  instant. 

"  Clement,"  she  said  softly,  "  have  you  heard  any 
thing  from  Delia  ?  " 

He  gently  withdrew  himself  from  her.  "  Nothing 
definite,"  he  answered,  flushing. 

"  Oh,  she  wrote,  then,"  said  Mary  in  a  relieved  tone. 

"  She  wrote  my  name  on  the  outside  of  the  en 
velope  in  which  my  letter  to  her  was  inclosed." 

She  caught  his  hand.     "Unopened?" 

"  Unopened." 

"  Oh,  Clement." 

"  Come,  come,"  called  Frank,  and  she  let  him  go. 

When  the  two  travelers  reached  the  church,  they 
found  a  slip  of  paper  tucked  under  the  study  door. 
On  it  was  scrawled,  "  Come  to  Mrs.  McClintock's  and 
marry  a  couple." 

"  We'll    have     supper    first,"    decided    Vaughan. 


118         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Minnie  had  packed  for  them  a  generous  basket.  Will 
brought  it  in  and  by  the  light  of  the  lamp  they  spread 
out  the  goodies. 

"  They'll  think  you  ain't  comin',"  said  Will,  biting 
into  a  sandwich.  "  I'd  hate  to  have  you  lose  a  fee." 

"  A  man  must  eat,"  replied  Clement,  attacking  a 
raspberry  tart.  He  had  forgotten  the  fast  at  Galena. 

Hunger  appeased,  they  started,  Will  to  go  to  his 
room,  Clement,  to  the  boarding-house.  Before  they 
separated  at  the  corner  the  scraping  of  a  fiddle  and 
the  stamp  of  heavy  feet  upon  a  wooden  floor  came  over 
to  them  through  the  open  windows  opposite,  then  an 
outbreak  of  harsh,  hilarious  voices. 

"  They've  started  in,"  said  Will.  "  Perhaps  they've 
found  someone  else  to  do  it." 

"  I'll  stop  and  see,"  said  Vaughan.  He  took  the 
narrow  footpath  up  to  the  house  and  Will  went  on. 

It  was  some  time  before  anyone  answered  the  rap  at 
the  door.  At  last  the  widow  herself  responded. 
She  was  in  holiday  attire  and  so  much  the  more  dread 
ful  for  that,  Vaughan  decided. 

"  We  calc'lated  you  wa'n't  comin',"  she  said  with  an 
independent  fling,  "  so  he  started  for  another  parson." 

Who  was  he,  Vaughan  wondered.  Who  was  the 
poor,  besotted  fool  who  could  so  far  forget  himself 
as  to  marry  either  one  of  these  women ! 

The  sister  was  the  bride,  it  seemed.  In  addition 
to  her  other  finery  she  wore  a  wisp  of  veil  drooping 
fantastically  over  one  ear. 


AN    UNLUCKY    BRIDEGROOM         119 

The  room  was  full  of  men  and  women;  miners, 
workers  in  the  mill  or  at  the  furnace,  a  coarse,  brutal 
lot.  All  of  the  men  were  smoking.  Men  and  women 
alike  had  been  drinking. 

"  There  he  comes !  "  shouted  the  bride.  The  rest 
took  up  the  cry,  and  there  entered  Dick,  the  bandage 
still  over  his  shoulder!  He  was  followed  by  Haver- 
ford,  the  Episcopal  minister  whom  Vaughan  had  met 
on  the  hill.  Dick  went  obediently  to  his  bride. 
Haverford  stood  with  his  bag,  looking  for  a  place  in 
which  to  robe.  Finally  he  spied  Vaughan. 

"  Ah,  you  came,"  he  said  in  a  relieved  tone. 
"  You  will,  of  course,  perform  the  ceremony." 

"  I  am  not  anxious  to,"  Vaughan  returned  gloomily. 
"  It  ought  not  to  be  allowed." 

"  I  don't  see  how  anyone  is  going  to  prevent  it," 
said  Haverford,  glancing  at  the  formidable  array  of 
witnesses. 

Here  Dick,  prompted  by  the  bride,  crossed  over  to 
them. 

"  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"Can  this  be  you,  Dick?"  asked  Vaughan  re 
proachfully. 

"That's  who  it  is,"  returned  the  cowboy,  with  a 
string  of  oaths  establishing  his  identity  beyond 
question.  The  company  applauded.  The  bride 
giggled. 

"  Very  well,  stand  up  there,"  said  Vaughan  stiffly, 
and  the  pair  obeyed. 


120         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

The  ceremony  proceeded.  Except  for  a  dazed,  far 
away  look  in  his  eyes  the  unlucky  bridegroom  seemed 
quite  himself  and  conscious  of  what  he  was  doing. 
He  responded  promptly,  did  as  he  was  told. 

It  was  the  bride  who  showed  signs  of  more  than  or 
dinary  stimulation.  She  had  fortified  herself  for  the 
event,  and,  with  her  exuberant  delight  over  her  cap 
ture,  appeared  a  grotesque  bacchante,  with  all  of  the 
abandon  and  none  of  the  grace  that  makes  such  a 
figure  tolerable.  She  pranced,  she  bridled,  she 
turned  this  way  and  that,  cast  sidelong  glances  at  the 
bridegroom,  whose  eyes  kept  their  dazed,  far-away 
look,  and  when  it  came  her  turn  to  respond  to  the 
question,  "  Wilt  thou  have  this  man  to  be  thy  wedded 
husband?  "  she  threw  her  arms  around  the  victim's 
neck,  shouting,  "  By  gosh,  I  will,  Dick !  " 

The  ritual  fell  from  the  Parson's  hands. 

"  What  do  you  mean,"  he  demanded,  "  by  this  un 
seemly  conduct?  You  are  taking  part  in  a  religious 
ceremony  and  you  will  please  remember  that  fact." 
He  continued  the  service.  There  were  no  more  out 
breaks. 

The  necessary  papers  were  produced  and  signed. 
'  Haverford  witnessed.  Dick  produced  a  twenty-dollar 
gold-piece  and  handed  it,  not  to  the  officiating  clergy 
man,  but  to  the  witness. 

"What  is  this  for?"  inquired  Haverford.  "I 
didn't  marry  you." 

"Who  did?"  asked  Dick. 


AN    UNLUCKY    BRIDEGROOM 


"He  did,"  answered  Haverford,  pointing  to 
Vaughan. 

"  Give  it  to  Jiim  then,"  said  Dick  nonchalantly  and 
turned  away. 

"  That  was  a  queer  thing,"  said  Haverford,  as  the 
two  clergymen  left  the  house. 

"  It  was  all  queer,"  said  Vaughan  shortly.  "  I  feel 
as  if  I  had  committed  a  crime." 

"  Nonsense,"  exclaimed  his  companion. 

"  Would  you  have  done  it  if  I  hadn't  ?  "  asked 
Vaughan,  stopping  in  the  middle  of  the  walk. 

"  Of  course,"  returned  the  other.  "  It's  all  in  the 
day's  work.  When  you've  been  here  as  long  as  I 
have,  you  won't  take  these  people  so  seriously.  — 
Hullo,  there's  a  meeting  of  the  D.  P.  I.  !  " 

He  glanced  down  Main  Street,  where  a  row  of 
lighted  candles  were  set  up  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

"Is  that  it?"  asked  Vaughan.  "I  thought  it 
was  a  danger  signal." 

"  No,  it's  the  D.  P.  I."  Haverford  laughed  to 
himself.  "I  wonder  whom  Barker  has  caught,"  he 
mused. 

Barker  everybody  knew.  Vaughan  had  not  been 
in  town  an  hour  before  the  dissolute,  brilliant,  eccen 
tric  lawyer  had  been  pointed  out  to  him  ;  but  of  the  D. 
P.  I.  he  had  not  heard  till  now.  It  was,  of  course, 
he  said  to  himself,  one  of  those  secret  societies  of 
which  the  town  was  full.  He  did  not  think  Haver 
ford  went  in  for  that  sort  of  thing.  At  another  time 


THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 


curiosity  might  have  spurred  him  on  to  an  investiga 
tion,  but  to-night  his  mind  was  full  of  Dick's  unfor 
tunate  entanglement. 

"  I'll  go  right  down,"  said  Haverford,  and  hurried 
away  in  the  direction  of  the  candles. 

Vaughan  went  back  to  his  study.  What  would 
Jack  think  of  him,  after  the  warning  given,  the  pledge 
received  ? 

What  did  he  think  of  himself,  to  be  drawn  into  such 
a  scrape?  How  did  it  happen?  It  was  because  he 
had  come  home  so  sure  of  himself,  so  complacent,  so 
satisfied.  Then  was  the  time  to  be  humble  and  watch 
ful  and  on  his  guard.  Instead,  he  had  dallied  over  his 
supper  and  gone  to  meet  the  enemy  full  of  pride  and 
raspberry  tart.  He  should  have  prayed  and  pre 
pared  himself  for  the  religious  ceremony  he  had  been 
called  to  perform.  If  he  had  done  this,  he  would 
have  seen  clearly  and  been  strong  enough  to  take 
a  stand,  would  have  cowed  the  rabble  and  held  back 
Haverford  and  given  Dick  a  chance. 

Only  constant  vigilance,  the  deepest  humility,  un 
varying  obedience  to  the  holy  vision,  could  carry  him 
through  the  work  he  had  undertaken.  It  was  too  big 
for  him,  too  big  for  any  man  ;  but,  as  Mary  Henley 
had  said,  it  was  not  too  big  for  God.  If  he  submitted 
utterly  to  Divine  guidance,  putting  self  aside,  he 
could  accomplish  it.  Otherwise  he  was  doomed  to 
pitiable  failure.  For  such  an  impulsive,  easily  af 
fected  nature  there  was  no  middle  course. 


AN    UNLUCKY    BRIDEGROOM 


So  he  scourged  himself  with  regrets,  put  on  the 
sackcloth  of  penitence,  bestrewed  himself  with  the 
ashes  of  humility,  and  dedicated  himself  anew  to  his 
work. 

Meanwhile,  down  at  the  Widow  McClintock's 
the  orgies  were  at  their  height.  Swept  along  by  he 
knew  not  what  evil  influence,  Dick  the  cowboy  drank 
and  danced  and  cursed  and  drank  again,  nor  knew 
until  the  next  morning  that  he  was  a  married  man. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    FOUNDER    OF    THE    D.    P.   I, 

A  I      I      addressing      the      Reverend      Clement 
Vaughan?  " 

The  speaker,  standing  in  the  doorway 
of  the  study,  with  his  back  against  the  light,  was 
visible  only  in  outline.  When  his  question  had  been 
answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  stepped  inside. 

"  I  am  Samuel  Barker,"  he  announced,  with  a  pro 
found  obeisance. 

The  light  from  the  window  revealed  him  now.  He 
was  small,  slight,  fair,  with  watery  blue  eyes,  a  nose 
too  large  for  his  face,  a  dejected  mustache,  womanish 
hands.  He  had  the  manners  of  a  Chesterfield,  ac 
companied  by  a  sidelong,  cynical  glance,  characteris 
tic  of  no  one  but  himself. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you,"  he  said,  ad 
vancing  and  putting  into  Clement's  hands  a  neat  roll, 
"  that  you  have  been  elected  a  member  of  the  D.  P.  I." 

Haverford's  words,  "  I  wonder  whom  Barker  has 
caught,"  returned  to  Vaughan,  and  he  hesitated. 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  anyone  had  proposed  my 
name  for  membership,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not  in  a  posi 
tion,  at  present " 


THE   FOUNDER   OF   THE   D.   P.   I.       125 

"  My  dear  sir — pardon  me  for  interrupting,"  in 
terposed  Barker.  "  It  was  not  necessary  for  anyone 
to  propose  your  name.  It  never  is,  in  the  D.  P.  I. 
That  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  organization. 
As  soon  as  a  man  distinguishes  himself  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  him  eligible  to  the  society  he  becomes  a 
member.  The  election  merely  confirms  what  is  al 
ready  a  fait  accompli." 

"  But  I  have  not  done  anything — here,"  pursued 
Vaughan.  "  In  England  I  was  an  F.  R.  H.  S.,  F.  R. 
A.  S.,  F.  R.  M.  S.,  F.  G.  S.,  and  M.  V.  I."  He  paused 
before  the  glint  of  impish  delight  in  Barker's  eyes, 
but  all  the  visitor  said  was,  "  I  don't  know  that  we 
have  any  member  quite  so  distinguished,  unless  it  be 
Bismarck." 

"  Bismarck !  "  exclaimed  Vaughan  in  surprise.  "  Is 
he  a  member?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  a  personal  letter  from  Bismarck, 
acknowledging  his  election.  One  from  Gladstone, 
also,  acknowledging  his.  We  have  all  the  great 
statesmen,  many  scientists,  professional  men  and 
artists  and  quite  a  number  of  clergymen." 

"  Strange  that  I  never  heard  of  the  society  before," 
mused  Vaughan.  "  Who  is  the  president  ?  " 

"  There  isn't  any.  The  only  officer  is  the  secre 
tary,  whom  you  see  before  you."  Barker  bowed 
again. 

"  And  the  dues  ?  "  Vaughan  continued. 

"  There  are  no  dues,"  Barker  replied.     "  When  we 


126         THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

meet  on  business,  as  we  did  a  few  evenings  ago,  a  col 
lection  is  taken  up.  If  we  have  a  banquet,  each 
member  present  is  taxed  so  much  a  plate." 

"  Most  extraordinary ! "  murmured  Vaughan, 
fingering  the  roll. 

"  I  will  leave  you  to  examine  it  at  your  leisure," 
said  Barker,  rising.  "  Whenever  you  see  the  lighted 
candles  in  the  middle  of  the  street  you  will  know  that 
there  is  a  meeting.  I  bid  you  good-morning ! "  and 
he  tiptoed  out  of  the  study. 

Left  to  himself,  Vaughan  hastily  untied  the  roll. 
It  was  handsomely  engraved,  with  spaces  left  for  fill 
ing  in  the  name  of  the  member,  the  date,  and  what 
particular  achievement  had  made  him  eligible.  This 
was  the  item  Vaughan  first  sought.  "Rejected  the 
Offer  of  a  Paying  Deal."  What  could  that  be? 

He  glanced  at  the  top  of  the  page.  Cunningly 
interwoven  with  scrolls  and  arabesques  was  the  name 
of  the  society,  "Damn  Phool  Infirmary!" 

So,  it  was  a  hoax,  a  grind,  a  delicate  way  of 
insinuating  that  he  had  made  a  fool  of  himself,  was  a 
candidate  for  the  Infirmary !  "  The  Paying  Deal  " 
was,  of  course,  the  offer  of  four  hundred  dollars  by 
Jack  and  Mat  for  a  share  in  a  church  sociable.  He 
thrust  the  certificate  into  a  drawer  of  the  desk  and 
returned  to  his  sermon-writing. 

Meanwhile,  the  founder  of  the  D.  P.  I.,  enjoying  to 
the  full  the  revelations  of  himself  made  by  the  new 
member,  entered  the  store  occupied  by  Poole  and 


THE    FOUNDER    OF    THE    D.    P.    I. 


Pilcher  repeating  "  F.  R.  H.  S.,  F.  R.  A.  S.,  F.  R. 
M.  S.,  F.  G.  S.,  M.  V.  I." 

"What  have  you  been  taking?"  demanded  Poole, 
leaning  over  the  counter  to  scrutinize  the  visitor. 

"  Nothing,  George,  nothing,"  Barker  returned 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand.  "  Two  big  cases  on,  to-day. 
Nevada  Bill  and  Cussin'  Dick  —  murder  and  marriage. 
How  can  I  take  anything?  " 

"  What's  all  that  lingo  you  were  getting  off? 
Sounded  as  if  you  were  drunk." 

"  George,"  said  Barker  gravely,  "  you  always 
think  if  there's  anything  you  don't  understand,  that 
it  is  incomprehensible." 

"  What's  up  ?  "  asked  Pilcher,  coming  out  from 
the  large  inner  room  which  he  and  Poole  called  "  the 
den." 

"  F.  R.  H.  S.,  F.  R.  A.  S.,  F.  R.  M.  S.,  F.  G.  S., 
M.  V.  I.,"  repeated  Barker  glibly.  "  Those  are  the 
titles  and  subtitles  of  a  new  volume  recently  added 
to  the  D.  P.  I.  —  a  volume  of  essays." 

"  Oh,  talk  United  States  !  "  grumbled  Poole. 

"  What  are  you  driving  at  ?  "  queried  Pilcher,  look 
ing  down  with  a  smile  upon  the  two. 

Poole  was  not  a  large  man,  although  "  hard  as 
nails,"  as  he  told  everyone,  displaying  proudly  what 
he  called  his  "  labor-hardened  muscles."  He  had 
been  a  miner,  but  had  risen  gradually  until  he  was 
now  superintendent  of  the  Belle  Isle  mines.  Smooth- 
skinned,  florid,  he  presented  a  marked  contrast  to 


128         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  other  George — Pilcher — who  was  tall,  slender  and 
dark,  evidently  of  Jewish  descent. 

"  A  volume  of  essays  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes,  theological,"  replied  Barker. 

"  Oh — you  mean  the  Sage  Brush  Parson !  " 

"  He  didn't  call  himself  that,"  returned  Barker. 
"  He  said  he  was  F.  R.  H.  S.,  F.  R.  A.  S.,  F.  M.  S., 
F.  G.  S.,  M.  V.  I." 

"  What  does  all  that  mean?  "  broke  in  Pilcher. 

"  Damned  if  I  know,"  returned  Barker.  "  Get  a 
dictionary." 

The  book  was  brought  and  the  abbreviations  were 
identified.  "  If  he  says  he's  all  that,  he's  a  damn 
liar !  "  said  Poole,  striking  the  open  page  with  his 
fist. 

"  There  he's  outside  my  jurisdiction,"  said  Barker. 
"  My  business  is  solely  with  the  D.  P.  I.  As  a  liar, 
he  will  have  to  answer  to  the  S.  L.  C.  Good-morning, 
gentlemen,"  and  he  took  his  leave. 

His  next  step  was  to  send  a  summons  to  the  indi 
vidual  under  discussion,  citing  him  to  appear  as  a 
witness  in  the  divorce  proceedings  instituted  by 
Richard  Dale  against  Mrs.  Richard  Dale,  and  another 
summons  to  the  Reverend  Frederick  Haverford  for 
a  similar  purpose.  Then  he  went  to  Court. 

When  the  two  clergymen  appeared,  the  evidence 
was  all  in  for  the  murder  case,  and  Barker,  lawyer 
for  the  defense,  was  about  to  address  the  jury. 

The  State,  in  the  person  of  the  district  attorney, 


THE    FOUNDER    OF    THE    D.    P.    I. 


was  prosecuting  Nevada  Bill  for  the  killing  of  an 
unknown  miner. 

Nevada  Bill  had  had  a  quarrel  with  Alkali  Ike  and 
the  two  had  promised  themselves  and  their  friends  to 
kill  each  other  "  on  sight."  Nevada  Bill  had  stationed 
himself  on  Jackson's  Corner  to  watch  for  his  enemy. 
After  a  while  Ike  appeared,  rendered  conspicuous,  a 
long  way  off,  by  his  limp,  a  reminder  of  the  poor 
marksmanship  of  another  man  who  had  had  a  quarrel 
with  him  and  whose  shot  had  struck  Ike's  knee  instead 
of  his  heart  —  a  fatal  mistake,  as  the  man's  funeral, 
two  days  later,  testified. 

"  Such  bunglin's  got  to  be  sat  down  on,"  Ike 
declared  when  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  sheriff. 
"  Self-defense  "  they  called  it,  but  it  was  really 
defense  of  a  principle.  The  limp  would  last  as  long 
as  he  did. 

It  was  impossible  to  mistake  Ike.  It  was  equally 
impossible  to  hit  him.  Whenever  Bill  took  aim,  Ike 
dodged,  or  seemed  to  dodge,  almost  to  the  level  of  the 
sidewalk.  At  length,  in  desperation,  Bill  fired,  Ike 
bobbed,  and  the  bullet  intended  for  him  killed  an 
inoffensive  stranger  who  happened  to  be  passing  on 
the  other  side  of  the  street. 

All  this  had  been  proved.  Any  man  but  Barker 
would  have  despaired  of  the  case.  Not  he,  however. 
In  his  blandest  tones,  with  his  most  impressive 
manner,  he  addressed  the  jury. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,"  he  began,  after  the 


130         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

stir  had  subsided  attending  the  entrance  of  the  two 
witnesses  for  the  Dale  case.  "  In  murder,  as  you  are 
aware,  malice  must  be  proved.  Otherwise  it  is  not 
murder.  I  put  it  to  you,  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury, 
where  was  the  malice  in  this  case?  There  was  none. 
My  client  did  not  even  know  the  deceased.  He  had 
never  seen  him  until  that  morning.  How  can  there  be 
malice  when  one  man  does  not  know  another?  Im- 
pos-sible,  gentlemen,  im-pos-sible !  There  was  no 
malice  there ! 

"  This  was  no  murder.  It  was — a  visitation  of 
Providence.  The  deceased  came  to  his  death 
accidentally!  " 

The  Jury  sat  open-mouthed.  A  broad  grin  over 
spread  the  rugged  features  of  Alkali  Ike.  Barker 
caught  a  glimpse  of  it  and  turned.  "  Gentlemen  of 
the  Jury,"  he  exclaimed,  "  if  you  want  to  find  the 
real  criminal,  there  he  sits ! "  He  pointed  straight 
at  Ike.  "  If  he'd  stood  up  and  walked  like  any  other 
decent  man,  and  had  taken  his  own  shots  when  they 
were  fired  at  him,  this  poor  stranger  would  never 
have  been  killed.  It  is  he,  with  his  mean,  delusive, 
evasive  walk  who  is  responsible  for  the  death  of  the 
unknown!  " 

Ike's  jaw  dropped.  He  sat  aghast.  The  court 
smiled.  The  spectators  applauded.  Barker  took  his 
seat  well  pleased. 

The  Jury  brought  in  a  verdict  of  "  Not  guilty," 
and  the  Court  went  merrily  on  with  the  divorce  pro 
ceeding  of  Richard  Dale  vs.  Mrs.  Richard  Dale, 


THE   FOUNDER   OF   THE   D.    P.   I.       131 

The  case  promised  little  for  Dick  from  the  start 
There  were  plenty  of  witnesses  to  prove  that  he 
acted  of  his  own  volition.  He  had  declared  openly 
that  he  was  going  to  marry  the  woman,  had  himself 
invited  the  guests,  bought  the  liquor,  engaged  the 
musicians,  gone  for  the  clergymen,  not  one,  but  two, 
so  great  was  his  haste.  The  shyster  lawyer  whom  the 
widow  had  summoned  from  Battle  Mountain  seemed 
to  have  everything  in  his  hands. 

Then  Barker  took  his  turn.  He  obtained  from 
Vaughan  and  Haverford  testimony  calculated  to  ex 
cite  suspicion,  but  no  more.  Then  he  called  the 
widow. 

She  took  the  stand  with  brazen  assurance.  She 
was  ready  to  defy  Barker  himself  on  this  occasion. 

"  You  will  please  relate  the  circumstances  attend 
ing  the  betrothal  of  the  pair  under  discussion,"  said 
Barker  formally.  "  On  the  night  when  the  plaintiff 
proposed  to  the  defendant,  had  he  been  drinking  ?  " 

"  Not  to  signify,"  responded  the  witness  in  a 
harsh,  rasping  voice.  "  He  took  his  dram,  same's  all 
of  'em." 

"Who  gave  it  to  him?" 

"I  did." 

"  You  poured  it  out  into  the  glass?," 

"  Yes." 

"  Can  you  produce  the  glass  ?  " 

She  gave  him  a  quick  look.  "  Why,  no.  'Twas 
just  an  ordinary  tumbler  washed  up  and  put  away 
with  the  rest  of  'em=" 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  You  cannot  produce  it  ?  "  repeated  Barker. 

"  No,"  she  said  again. 

Barker  paused.     "  /  can"  he  said  steadily. 

He  beckoned  to  a  young  man  at  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room,  who  brought  to  him  a  paper  parcel. 
This  Barker  unrolled  and  displayed,  so  that  every 
one  could  see,  a  dingy  tumbler  of  ordinary,  heavy 
make. 

"  When  you  got  Red  Mike  to  smoke  strong  tobacco 
into  this  -  "  he  began  peremptorily. 

"  I  never  did  no  such  a  thing  -  "  she  interrupted 
tremulously. 

"  Silence  !  "  exclaimed  Barker,  and  she  cowered. 

The  bride  was  whitening  under  her  rouge  and  she 
nervously  moistened  her  full,  red  lips  with  her 
tongue. 

"  When  you  got  Red  Mike  to  smoke  strong  tobacco 
into  that  glass  so  that  there  was  a  film  of  nicotine 
which  remained  on  the  sides,"  repeated  the  lawyer, 
"  and  when  you  poured  whisky  into  that  glass  for  Mr. 
Richard  Dale,  were  you  aware  that  you  were  making 
yourself  and  your  accomplice  liable  for  a  criminal 
offense?" 

A  disturbance  in  the  rear  of  the  room  attracted 
attention  from  the  speaker.  A  stout  miner  was  grap 
pling  with  Red  Mike,  who  succeeded,  however,  in 
wrenching  himself  away  and  jumping  out  of  the 
window.  Half  a  dozen  men  and  boys  started  in  pur 
suit.  Everyone  crowded  to  the  windows  or  stood  up 


THE    FOUNDER    OF    THE    D.    P.    I.      133 

on  chairs  to  look.  Not  until  a  report  was  brought 
back  that  Red  Mike  had  doubled  on  his  pursuers  and 
dodged  into  some  hole  which  opened  to  receive  him, 
was  order  restored.  Then  Barker  again  put  his 
question,  adding,  "  I  suppose  you  did  it  as  a  joke." 

"  Ye-es,"  she  answered  with  chattering  teeth. 
"  That's  what  it  was,  a — a  joke.  He-he,"  she 
laughed  hysterically.  "  'Course  'twas  a  joke." 

A  joke  and  the  outcome  of  a  joke  the  Court 
declared  the  marriage.  Dick  went  his  way  and  the 
designing  women  went  theirs. 

An  inquisitive  group  gathered  around  Barker  and 
asked  to  see  the  tumbler.  Haverford  and  Vaughan 
were  among  them. 

"  So  that  is  what  they  call '  a  dope  '  ?  "  said  Haver- 
ford,  taking  the  tumbler  and  holding  it  up  to  the 
light. 

"  That's  what  it  was,"  replied  Barker.  "  It  made 
Dick  very  obedient." 

"  How  did  you  ever  contrive  to  get  hold  of  such  a 
damaging  piece  of  testimony?  "  Haverford  inquired. 

"  Borrowed  it,"  said  Barker  coolly.  "  That 
tumbler  belongs  to  Jack.  I  mustn't  forget  to  carry 
it  back." 

"Then  it  wasn't  the  Widdcr's  tumbler  at  all?" 
called  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Oh,  no,  that  tumbler's  Jack's,"  said  Barker.  "  I 
suspected  some  such  trick.  I  knew  Red  Mike  of  old. 
The  Widder  knew  she  was  guilty  and  when  Mike  gave 


134         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  thing  away  she  cadunkered.  The  Widder's  a 
fool,  for  all  she  thinks  she's  smart." 

"  Is  she  a  member  of  the  D.  P.  I.  ? "  inquired 
Vaughan  somewhat  bitterly. 

"  No,  Parson ;  we  don't  take  incurables,"  drawled 
the  lawyer. 

He  rolled  up  the  tumbler  and,  when  the  little  com 
pany  left  the  court-house,  fell  into  step  with  Vaughan 
as  they  walked  up  the  street. 

"  We  can't  take  in  everybody,"  he  continued. 
"  Not  but  what  they  all  belong  in  the  same  category. 
I  always  wonder,  when  I  see  a  man,  how  soon  he'll 
show  his  fool-spot,  and  what  it  is." 

"  You  didn't  hit  mine,"  said  Vaughan.  "  You  hit 
my  principles." 

"  Bless  your  soul,  that's  what  they  invariably  think 
it  is !  "  The  lawyer  chuckled.  He  felt  that  he  had 
struck  a  new,  rich  vein. 

"  I  know  wherein  I'm  a  fool,"  continued  Vaughan 
sensitively. 

"How  do  you  know?"  demanded  Barker.  "You 
don't.  Nobody  knows  that  of  himself.  I  founded 
the  society  as  a  sort  of  bureau  of  information.  And 
I'd  learned  how  big  a  fool  I  was  myself  and  wanted 
a  crowd  to  help  get  up  a  laugh.  That's  what  being 
a  fool  is  for,  in  this  dreary  world." 

He  gave  Vaughan  one  of  his  sidelong,  cynical 
glances.  "  Here  we  are,  at  Jack's,"  he  said  lightly. 
"  I  must  go  in  and  leave  his  tumbler." 


THE    FOUNDER    OF    THE    D.    P.    I.      135 

As  Vaughan  moved  on  he  heard  quick  steps,  and 
Haverford  overtook  him. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Eureka  Justice  ?  "  he 
inquired. 

Vaughan  shook  his  head. 

"  It's  the  one  virtue  they  pride  themselves  on, 
here,"  continued  Haverford.  "  Giving  every  man 
his  due,  '  seeing  that  he  has  fair  play.'  Isn't  Barker 
a  character?  You  should  have  seen  him  come  into 
Court  half-seas-over,  as  I  did  the  other  day. 

"  *  What  does  this  mean  ?  '  the  Judge  asked. 

" '  Wha's  the  matter,  Judge?  '  replied  Barker. 

"  '  You're  in  no  condition  to  be  here,'  says  the 
Judge.  '  You're  drunk,  sir ! ' 

"  *  Firs'  correc'  decision  I  ever  got  from  this 
Court ! '  says  Barker." 

Haverford  laughed.  His  laughter,  his  imitation 
of  the  drunken  man's  utterance,  grated  upon 
Vaughan's  nerves. 

"To  me,"  he  returned  coldly,  "Barker  is— 
ghastly,  to  jest  as  he  does  in  the  midst  of  these  mad, 
irresponsible  doings.  His  indifference  to  human  life, 
that  horrible  doping  affair — I  don't  see  how  you  can 
laugh!" 

Haverford  halted — they  were  at  the  church  now — 
and  removed  his  hat,  in  the  cool  shadow  of  the  brick 
building.  He  was  not  as  young  a  man  as  to  a  first 
glance  he  appeared  to  be.  His  fine,  soft  brown  hair, 
parted  in  the  middle  and  spread  carefully,  failed  to 


136         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


cover  the  thin  places.  There  were  tell-tale  marks 
about  his  mouth  and  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  and 
the  pallor  of  his  smoothly  shaven  cheeks  was  the 
pallor  of  age,  not  of  invalidism.  That  he  was  a 
refined  gentleman  anyone  could  see.  There  could 
be  no  attraction  for  such  a  nature  in  a  place  like 
this.  Why  was  he  here?  He  was  no  missionary,  no 
zealot.  Antipathetic  impulses  deepened  to  dislike  in 
Vaughan  for  an  instant,  then  suddenly  dissolved  into 
a  curious  pity  as  Haverford  went  on,  "  Some  time, 
when  you've  been  here  long  enough  to  realize  the 
horrors — no,  you  don't  realize  them  yet — when  you 
do,  you  won't  attempt  to  put  them  into  words — • 
then  you  will  be  grateful  to  the  founder  of  the  D. 
P.  I.  for  relaxing  the  tension  in  any  way  that  he 
can." 

He  started  to  leave,  but  returned,  as  if  an  idea 
had  suddenly  occurred  to  him.  "  The  Richmond  Hill 
people  are  back,"  he  said  briefly ;  "  they  wanted  me 
to  tell  you,  and  to  say  that  they  will  be  very  glad  to 
have  you  call." 

"  The  Richmond  Hill  people "  meant  Mrs. 
Chisholm,  both  men  knew,  but  the  elder  was  trying 
to  keep  out  of  his  voice  any  betrayal  of  the  fact,  and 
the  younger  with  an  effort  steadied  his  pulses  before 
he  answered,  "  They  are  very  kind.  I  will  avail 
myself  of  the  opportunity,  soon." 


CHAPTER    XIV 

A    TROUBADOUR 

KATHARINE  CHISHOLM  sat  before  her 
piano,  idly  playing  whatever  came  into  her 
head  and  ran  down  to  her  finger-tips,  she 
hardly  knew  what,  until  she  fell  upon  the  melody  the 
young  Methodist  had  played  that  hot  day  in  July 
when  he  sang  to  her  and  told  her  about  himself. 
She  knew  the  plaintive,  appealing  strains  whether 
they  came  unbidden,  as  now,  or  invoked — she  might 
as  well  confess  it — by  a  desire  to  place  herself  again 
under  the  influence  she  had  felt  then.  It  was  not  like 
any  other  influence  she  had  ever  felt;  therein  lay  its 
charm,  and,  to  a  degree,  its  excuse.  She  knew  when 
men  were  in  love  with  her;  it  was  not  like  that.  She 
knew  when  they  were  straining  every  nerve  to  win  her 
approval,  her  interest  and  cooperation:  it  was  none 
of  these.  What  was  it?  If  she  could  find  the  words 
to  this  strange,  sweet,  unworded  song  she  felt  she 
could  unlock  the  mystery.  What  did  the  notes  say? 
The  first  strain:  how  did  it  go? 

-9- 


"A  -  long     the      si      -      lent  ways    there  came 
137 


138         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


*  :# 

A     trou  -  ba  -  dour,  a      trou  -  ba  -  dour," 


she  sang  under  her  breath.  That  was  it,  the 
Voice,  where  there  had  been — silence,  emptiness. 
She  had  not  known,  but  one  never  does  know  till — 
afterwards. 

What  dull  days,  what  a  meaningless  existence  hers 
had  been!  Breakfast,  luncheon  and  dinner,  a  drive 
or  a  ride  between,  books  to  yawn  over  or  get  angry 
with,  callers,  an  afternoon  tea.  Then,  the  men  in 
the  evening:  Winslow,  immaculate,  fastidious,  full 
of  little  flings  at  this  and  that ;  Haverf ord,  poor, 
tragic  Haverford — no  one  knew  how  tragic  except 
herself ;  dear,  good  Ned  Wilkins,  faithful  as  the  sun ; 
and  Arthur,  bored  but  polite. 

What  did  Arthur  really  think  of  the  life  here? 
He  would  never  tell.  He  would  just  go  on,  with 
silent  tenacity,  until  he  had  rolled  up  his  millions; 
then  he  would  carry  Mabel  and  Marguerite  off  to 
Europe  and  never  come  back.  He  had  his  pas 
sion  for  his  beautiful  wife  and  his  love  for  the 
child. 

And  Katharine  had  Elsie,  the  fay,  the  elf,  incom 
prehensible,  elusive.  "  I  adore  her,  of  course," 
Katharine  assured  herself.  "  But  she  never  was 
really  mine — any  more  than  her  father  was." 


A    TROUBADOUR  139 

And  Emmeline,  with  her  clothes  and  her  cosmetics, 
that  was  the  dreariest  of  all! 

"  Along  the  silent  ways  there  came 
A  troubadour,  a  troubadour, 


«F=rf: 


As      out        of     dark     -     ness  shines      a    flame, 


-N-- 


And     in        his    hand  no    harp      he    bore." 

No  harp,  no  lute;  she  had  furnished  the  instru 
ment.  Nothing  but  himself,  quaintly  garbed.  Many 
of  Winslow's  gibes  had  been  about  that  long  black 
coat.  On  anyone  else  it  would  be  grotesque.  But  it 
suited  him. 

Only  three  times  she  had  seen  him.  Yet  she  could 
recall  perfectly  the  tall,  slender  figure,  the  quick 
movements,  the  haunting  hands.  Ned  Wilkins  told 
her  he  had  been  "  doing  well."  The  small  brick 
church  had  been  filled  every  Sunday  during  the 
summer,  and  the  mid-week  prayer-meetings  had  not 
been  neglected  by  the  motley  congregation  he 
gathered  about  him.  Some  day  she  would  go  to  hear 
him  preach ;  she  would  get  Ned  to  take  her.  Ned 
liked  him,  praised  his  sincerity,  his  enthusiasm, 
believed  in  his  ability  to  do  a  great  work. 


140         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

But  that  was  the  other  side  of  him,  the  priestly 
side.  It  was  as  the  troubadour  that  he  appealed  to 
her.  Was  not  that  a  mission,  too? 

"  Along  the  silent  ways  there  came 
A  troubadour,  a  troubadour. 
As  out  of  darkness  shines  a  flame, 
And  in  his  hand  no  harp  he  bore." 

She  went  on: 


^=^p^ 


He    sang      of     Joy 


in 


ver-flow, 


He    sang     the    Pain          man -kind    must  know." 


People  needed  to  hear  of  these,  to  hear  of  them  in 
a  way  to  stir  the  heart,  to  arouse  them  to  sympathy 
and  action.  She  herself  had  been  a  different  woman 
since  he  sang  to  her.  Life  had  been  different,  had 
meant  something,  at  last.  Under  the  frivolity  and 
carelessness  and  preoccupation  of  those  she  met,  she 
had  touched  something,  as  he  had  touched  something 
in  her,  had  found  men  and  women  eager  with  desire, 
sore  with  disappointment,  dulled  by  waiting  too  long 
for  what  they  craved.  Surely  this  was  a  fine  tiling 


A    TROUBADOUR  141 

to  do,  to  make  her  sensitive  and  discerning,  not  only 
towards  herself,  but  towards  others.  Who  was  it  that 
said,  "  Let  me  sing  the  songs  of  the  people  and  let 
who  will  fight  their  battles  "  ? 

"Along  the  silent  ways  there  came 

A  troubadour,  a  troubadour, 
As  out  of  darkness  shines  a  flame, 

And  in  his  hand  no  harp  he  bore. 
He  sang  of  Joy  in  overflow, 
He  sang  the  Pain  mankind  must  know." 

She  played  the  final  bars: 


«6  And  they     who     lis      -      tened    to       that  voice 


With     it         did  mourn,        with      it         re  -  joice." 

Over  and  over  again  she  played  the  melody  and 
sang  the  words. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Miss  Emmeline,  rapping 
at  the  door  and  entering  at  the  same  time,  a  fashion 
of  hers  that  did  not  please  her  sister. 

"  A  little  thing  I  picked  up  some  time  ago," 
returned  Katharine  carelessly.  "  Do  you  like  it?  " 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  It  is  very  sweet.  Are  you  going  to  the 
Mortons'?" 

Katharine  dashed  into  the  Pizzicato  Polka. 
"  Haven't  decided,"  she  called  out  of  the  uproar  she 
had  invoked. 

"  It  seems  to  me  we  ought  to  make  the  effort," 
called  Miss  Emmeline  above  the  noise.  "  There  are 
so  few  of  us." 

Katharine  stopped  playing  and  whirled  around  on 
the  stool.  "  I  told  Mr.  Haverford  to  say  to  Mr. 
Vaughan  we  were  at  home  and  would  be  glad  to  see 
him  at  any  time." 

"  You  surely  wouldn't  stay  at  home  on  that 
account  !  "  exclaimed  the  elder  sister. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  demanded  Katharine. 

"  He  wouldn't  ask  or  expect  such  a  thing." 

"  He  wouldn't  need  to,"  said  Katharine  mis 
chievously. 

"  Kitty!  I  cannot  understand  how  you've  come  to 
be  so  fascinated  with  that  man  —  you  who  have  been 
followed  by  perfect  mobs  all  your  life  !  " 

"  Why  do  you  think  I'm  fascinated?  "  Katharine 
demanded,  with  a  laugh. 

"  You  show  it,  in  every  way,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Emmeline.  "  That  night  he  was  here  to  dinner  you 
fairly  hung  on  his  words,  and  after  he  came  and 
stayed  all  the  afternoon,  you  were  as  absent-minded 
as  you  could  be.  —  I  know  Eugene  Winslow  feels  it," 
Miss  Emmeline  added,  receiving  no  response. 


A   TROUBADOUR  143 

"  What  is  it  to  Mr.  Eugene  Winslow  if  I  like  or 
dislike  anyone?"  exploded  Katharine.  "He  takes 
too  much  for  granted.  Yes,  I'll  go  with  you,  Em,  if 
you  won't  tease." 

"What  are  you  going  to  wear?"  asked  Miss 
Emmeline,  brightening,  and  continued,  without  wait 
ing  for  an  answer,  "  Would  you  wear  my  black  lace 
with  the  spangles  if  you  were  in  my  place,  or  do  you 
think  the  lavender-and-white  peau  de  sole  is  more 
becoming?  " 

"  You  look  very  well  in  either,"  said  Katharine, 
trying  to  appear  interested.  What  if  Mr.  Vaughan 
should  come  while  she  was  away?  She  did  not  want 
to  leave  a  message.  Still  he  might  not  come  again 
for  weeks,  and  she  wanted  to  see  him — she  had  a  plan 
for  him.  It  is  impossible  for  a  woman  of  Katharine's 
stamp  to  be  interested  in  any  man  and  not  have  a 
plan  for  him. 

Dressed  for  the  afternoon,  white  from  head  to 
foot,  parasol  to  shoes,  she  came  down  the  stairs  to 
the  carriage. 

Elsie  followed  her,  rhapsodizing.  "  My  mamma 
is  the  most  beautiful  mamma  in  the  world,"  she 
chanted.  "  And  she  wears  the  most  beautiful 
clothes." 

Katharine  turned  at  the  door.  "  I'm  a  bit  sus 
picious  about  you  to-day,  young  lady,"  she  said,  look 
ing  up  and  down  the  tiny  figure.  "  You've  been  so 
sugary.  Elsie,  please  be  good  while  I'm  away." 


144         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

The  mite  tipped  her  saucy  head  and  looked  up 
under  her  eyelashes  with  a  glance  at  once  demure 
and  tantalizing. 

"  Promise,"  said  her  mother,  holding  her  at  arm's 
length. 

Elsie  pouted  for  a  kiss. 

"  Promise,"  repeated  Katharine.  "  I  won't  kiss 
you  till  you  do." 

"  How  good,  mamma  ?  "  demanded  the  elf,  stand 
ing  on  one  leg,  like  a  contemplative  stork. 

"  Do  come,  Kitty,"  called  Mabel  from  the  car 
riage.  "  She'll  be  good,  won't  you,  dear?  "Mar- 
guerite'll  look  after  her." 

"  Will  you  promise  not  to  turn  on  the  water  in 
the  bathroom,  or " 

"  Do  come,  Kitty,"  urged  Mabel. 

Katharine  gave  her  offspring  a  final  shake  and 
squeeze,  kissed  her  reproachfully  and  let  her  go. 

"  I  know  she's  up  to  something,"  she  ejaculated  as 
they  drove  away.  "  I  can  feel  mischief  all  through 
her,  like  electricity.  I  don't  see  how  I  came  to  have 
such  a  child." 

"  You  were  just  like  her,"  said  Miss  Emmeline. 
"Ask  Arthur.  You  kept  us  on  tenter-hooks  until 
you  were  sent  away  to  school." 

"  Look  back,  Kitty,  and  wave  your  hand,"  cried 
Mabel,  as  they  reached  the  turn  in  the  road. 

The  two  children  stood  on  the  veranda,  their  arms 
about  each  other's  waists,  a  picture  of  youthful 


A    TROUBADOUR  145 

innocence  and  docility.  The  women  in  the  carriage 
waved  their  hands  and  blew  kisses.  The  children 
responded.  Then  the  two  small  white  figures  were 
lost  to  view. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  very  good  until  half -past  five," 
said  Elsie  as  they  went  back  into  the  house.  It  was 
then  five. 

"  What's  going  to  happen  then? "  inquired 
Marguerite. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Elsie,  shaking  her  curls, 
"  'Most  anything.  And  they  won't  be  home  till  eight 
o'clock." 


CHAPTER    XV 

FAIRY    FINGERS 

MISS  ELSIE'S  that  contrary  the  day,  I 
dunno,"  said  Nora  Flynn  to  Mrs.  Mat 
thews,  the  cook.  It  was  half-past  six. 
The  children  had  had  their  supper  and  were  playing 
about  the  yard.  "  And  Mary's  sent  up  word  by 
Jerry  that  her  little  sister  Ellen  has  come  out  from 
home  and  she  wants  me  to  come  down.  'Tis  only  one 
sister  she  has,  all  the  rest  byes." 

"  Run  along,"  said  Mrs.  Matthews  kindly.  "  I'll 
keep  an  eye  on  the  young  ones.  Their  mothers'll  be 
home  by  eight." 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  back  long  before  eight,"  said  Nora, 
and  took  the  back  way  out  of  the  house  to  escape 
notice. 

In  this  she  failed  ignominiously.  Before  she 
reached  the  street,  she  heard  Elsie  call,  "  Where  you 
going,  Nora?  " 

"  On  an  errand,"  she  called  back.  "  I'U  not  be 
long." 

"  She's  gone  down  to  Mary's,"  pronounced  Elsie, 
"  and  she  won't  be  back ;  she  never  is.  What  let's 
do?" 

146 


FAIRY    FINGERS  147 

They  had  done  very  nearly  everything,  but  Elsie's 
fertile  brain  would  undoubtedly  have  devised  further 
mischief  had  she  not  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  tall,  dark 
figure  entering  the  yard. 

"There's  C.  V.!"  she  cried.  "Come  on!"  and 
flew  down  the  path  to  meet  him. 

It  was  very  pleasant,  after  days  spent  with  saloon 
keepers  and  saloon-patrons,  miners  and  cowboys  and 
the  D.  P.  L,  to  be  met  by  two  little  girls  with  laugh 
ing  eyes  and  floating  hair,  to  feel  two  small,  soft 
palms  slide  into  his,  to  hear  two  childish  voices  pipe 
of  what  had  happened  since  he  was  last  there. 

Vaughan's  Celtic  ancestor  stirred  in  him  with  joy 
over  these  representatives  of  the  Little  People.  He 
gave  himself  up  unreservedly  into  their  hands.  They 
led  him  into  the  small  sitting-room — Katharine's  sit 
ting-room.  They  seated  him  on  the  couch  and 
climbed  all  over  him.  They  took  liberties  with  him, 
rifled  his  pockets,  played  with  his  watch;  and  he 
leaned  his  head  back  among  the  cushions  and  closed 
his  tired  eyes,  submitting  utterly  to  the  spell  of 
their  fairy  fingers  and  the  bird-like  twittering  with 
which  they  commented  on  what  they  found. 

How  long  he  slept  he  did  not  know.  When  he  awoke 
the  room  was  dim  with  shadows,  and  far  away  the  bell 
of  his  church  rang  for  the  mid-week  prayer-meeting, 
quite  forgotten  until  now.  He  sprang  up  hastily, 
thrust  the  two  children  gently  aside  and  ran. 

The  bell   gave  its   last   peremptory   stroke   as  he 


148         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

reached  the  church.  He  entered  without  delay.  One 
quick  glance  about  the  room  told  him  that  it  was 
filled. 

Everyone  turned  as  he  passed  up  the  aisle  on  his 
way  to  the  platform,  and  an  expression  of  surprise, 
of  amusement,  appeared  on  every  face.  Some  of  the 
young  people  present  laughed  outright.  What  could 
be  amiss? 

He  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair  and  brought 
them  out  filled  with  bits  of  ribbon,  through  his  beard 
and  found  more.  He  touched  his  forehead;  it 
was  set  with  curls  plastered  down  upon  it  in  a 
row. 

"  It  was  the  children,"  he  said  apologetically,  as 
he  vigorously  brushed  away  the  web  of  the  Little 
People.  "  We  will  sing  Hymn  Forty-eight." 

Ned  Wilkins,  who  had  slipped  in  for  a  few  minutes 
on  his  way  home,  described  the  scene  to  the  Rich 
mond  Hill  friends.  "  If  he'd  set  out  to  make  himself 
as  ridiculous  as  possible,  he  couldn't  have  succeeded 
any  better,"  said  Ned.  "  I  wonder  who  the  children 
were!" 

Katharine  at  once  started  for  the  small  chamber, 
opening  out  of  her  own,  in  which  Elsie  slept.  Her 
precocious  daughter  lay  on  her  little  white  bed,  fast 
asleep  in  the  moonlight,  one  round  arm  flung  over 
her  head.  It  seemed  cruel  to  awaken  anyone,  most  of 
all  a  child,  from  such  profound  and  peaceful  sleep, 
but  Katharine  was  inexorable. 


FAIRY    FINGERS  149 

"  Elsie,"  she  said,  "  wake  up,  and  tell  me  who  has 
been  here." 

Elsie  half  opened  her  sleepy  eyes,  and  immediately 
closed  them. 

"  C.  V.,"  she  murmured  drowsily,  and  was  appar 
ently  fast  asleep  once  more.  But  her  mother  had  no 
mercy. 

"What  did  you  do  to  him?"  she  asked  sternly. 
"  Answer  me.  You're  not  asleep.  You  needn't  pre 
tend  you  are." 

"  I'm  not  pertending,"  whimpered  the  child.  "  And 
it  was  Marguerite  as  much  as  me.  We  parted  his 
hair  in  the  middle,  and  his  beard,  too.  She  had 
half." 

"What  was  he  thinking  of!"  ejaculated 
Katharine. 

"  He  wasn't  thinking  at  all,  mamma,"  Elsie 
replied.  "  He  was  asleep." 

"  You  were  a  very  naughty  girl,"  said  Katharine 
severely ;  "  and  mamma  will  have  to  punish  you 
to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  Elsie  set  up  a  wail.  "  And  now  I'll 
have  to  lie  awake  and  worry.  Can't  you  punish  me 
to-night?" 

"  No,  I  shall  wait  till  to-morrow.  You  ought  to 
lie  awake  and  remember  what  a  naughty  girl  you've 
been." 

Katharine  left  the  room.  An  hour  later,  in  dress 
ing-gown  and  slippers,  she  reentered  the  chamber. 


150         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Calm,  even  breathing  from  the  little  white  bed  told 
how  brief  had  been  the  culprit's  vigil. 

"  I'll  write  a  note  to  him  to-morrow  morning  and 
apologize,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  And  I'll  ask  him 
to  call  in  the  afternoon  and  see  me  on  a  matter  of 
business." 

So  occupied  was  she  in  phrasing  the  note,  the  fol 
lowing  morning,  that  Elsie's  punishment  was  delayed 
and  finally  forgotten.  Vaughan  came  promptly  and 
laughed  away  the  whole  affair  as  soon  as  it  was  men 
tioned  to  him.  Katharine  herself  was  impatient  to 
reveal  her  plan. 

"  I've  been  thinking,"  she  said,  when  they  had 
decided  to  remit  Elsie's  punishment,  "  that  you  might 
lecture." 

"  I've  thought  of  that,"  he  said,  "  and  even  gone 
so  far  as  to  make  out  a  list  of  subjects." 

"What,  for  instance?" 

"Well,  I'd  take  for  one  subject  'An  Old  English 
Home.'  I  made  a  study  of  a  place  in  the  town  where 
I  was  born  and  the  nobleman  who  owned  it  sent  the 
paper  I  wrote  to  the  Royal  Historical  Society.  They 
made  me  a  member." 

"Are  you  an  F.  R.  H.  S.?"  she  queried.  "Oh, 
you  must  put  that  in." 

"  And  F.  R.  A.  S.,  F.  R.  M.  S.,  F.  G.  S.,  and  M. 
V.  I.,"  he  added,  with  youthful  complacency. 

"  Put  them  all  in !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  Have  cards  printed,  giving  a  list  of  your  subjects 


FAIRY    FINGERS  151 

and  saying,  '  by  the  Reverend  Clement  Vaughan,  F. 
R.  H.  S.,  F.  R.  A.  S.,' what  were  the  others?" 

He  told  her. 

"  That  is  the  way  to  succeed  in  this  part  of  the 
world,"  she  said  sagely.  "  Or  indeed  anywhere.  Just 
dazzle  them ! " 

She  brought  pencil  and  paper  and  insisted  upon 
writing  out  a  form  for  him  to  use.  "  Now  don't 
leave  out  a  single  title,"  she  commanded.  "  If  you 
think  of  any  more,  put  them  in.  Have  your  cards 
printed  immediately  and  send  me  a  hundred.  I'll  see 
that  they  go  to  the  right  people  who  are  not  too  far 
away.  Don't  you  see,"  she  spoke  like  an  elder  sister, 
or  a  mother,  or  a  maiden  aunt.  "  This  work  will  help 
the  other.  You  can  enlarge  your  sphere  and  interest 
people  of  wealth  and  influence  in  your  mission,  at 
the  same  time  you  bring  new  life  and  vigor  to  your 
work  here  by  not  being  tied  down  to  it  too  closely. 
You  can  *  make  both  hands  wash,'  as  Jerry  says." 

He  left  her,  full  of  enthusiasm  and  hope.  It  was 
hard  to  be  confined  to  the  people  making  up  the  body 
of  his  congregation.  It  would  be  a  help  to  get  away 
once  in  a  while.  And  he  needed  the  money. 

The  very  next  day  he  took  the  form  to  the  Eureka 
printing  office  and  had  a  number  of  cards  struck  off. 
He  sent  some  to  Katharine,  who  mailed  them  without 
delay,  many  of  them  accompanied  by  a  personal  note. 
Others  he  mailed  himself,  or  left  in  the  stores  and 
saloons,  or  handed  to  his  friends  and  acquaintances. 


152         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

The  town  suddenly  seemed  to  be  full  of  the  Reverend 
Clement  Vaughan,  F.  R.  H.  S.,  F.  R.  A.  S.,  F.  R. 
M.  S.,  F.  G.  S.,  M.  V.  I. 

Such  zeal  could  not  in  the  nature  of  things  g<* 
unrewarded.  Within  a  short  time  it  bore  fruit  in 
strange  and  unexpected  ways. 


CHAPTER    XVI 


THE  S.  L.  C.,  that  is  to  say,  the  Sazerac 
Lying  Club,  like  the  D.  P.  I.,  held  a  special 
meeting  to  consider  the  Reverend  Clement 
Vaughan.  As  Barker  had  foreseen,  this  was  sure  to 
happen,  sooner  or  later. 

Not  as  keen  on  the  scent  of  the  objects  of  their 
satire  as  the  indefatigable  secretary  of  the  D.  P.  L, 
and  with  reason,  for  a  man  is  always  more  ready  to 
confess  himself  a  liar  than  a  fool,  its  officers  never 
theless  kept  a  sharp  lookout,  and  the  new  lecturer's 
cardful  of  titles  did  not  escape  them. 

Poole,  who  was  chairman  of  the  advisory  board, 
formally  presented  the  name  of  the  young  Methodist 
as  candidate  for  the  next  leather  medal,  given  to  the 
Champion  Liar  by  the  club.  The  last  to  be  honored 
in  this  manner  had  been  a  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Freyne,  who  had  claimed  to  be  the  son  of  an  Irish 
baron.  The  S.  L.  C.  had  looked  him  up  before 
ordering  the  medal.  Some  of  the  members  were  in 
favor  of  giving  Vaughan  likewise  "  the  benefit  of 
the  doubt."  But  Poole  was  hot  against  him.  "  He 
ought  to  be  hauled  in  before  he  goes  any  farther," 
was  Poole's  verdict.  "  Look  at  the  way  he's  carrying 

153 


154         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

sail!  Lectured  at  Palisade  last  night;  to-night  he's 
going  to  be  in  Winnamucca." 

"  He's  quite  a  High  Tippy  Bob  Royal,  I  tell  you" 
said  Shed  Wellman.  Shed  had  been  admitted  to  the 
society  on  the  strength  of  his  cattle  yarns.  Poole 
was  what  was  known  as  a  "  tall "  liar.  Barker  was 
the  best  "  all-'round  liar  "  in  the  club,  but  there  were 
others  who  merited  distinction.  Their  prominence 
varied  according  to  their  ability.  Only  the  best  liars 
told  where  the  medal  should  go,  on  the  principle  "  Set 
a  thief  to  catch  a  thief." 

"  My  wife  says,"  continued  Shed,  who  was  con 
tinually  quoting  this  authority,  "  that  there  ain't 
been  such  a  public  speaker  in  these  parts  since  she 
can  remember,  and  she  don't  know  as  ever." 

"  She's  been  caught  by  his  titles,"  replied  Poole. 

Barker  was  for  writing  to  the  various  Royal 
Societies,  requesting  information  regarding  "  the 
said  Clement  Vaughan."  Barker's  ventures  in 
foreign  correspondence  had  always  brought  him 
large  returns.  He  would  like  to  confront  Vaughan 
with  testimony  thus  obtained.  "  I'd  like  to  see  what 
he'd  do,"  said  Barker. 

Ned  Wilkins,  arriving  opportunely,  moved  that 
Barker  be  empowered  to  write  such  letters.  The 
motion  was  carried.  But  Poole  was  for  immediate 
action.  "  He's  played  us  for  a  lot  of  suckers," 
repeated  Poole.  "  To  be  played  for  a  sucker  "  was 
what  no  man  in  Eureka  would  endure,  least  of  all 


"THE    RABBIT    HIT'  155 

Poole.  He  was  extremely  sensitive  when  his  intelli 
gence  was  impugned. 

"  It  don't  stand  to  reason  that  a  feller  twenty- 
three-four  years  old  can  be  a  member  of  so  many  big 
societies,"  said  Poole.  "  He's  lied ;  he's  lied  big ;  the 
biggest  that  ever  was.  If  we  don't  do  as  we've  set 
out,  we  might  as  well  disband." 

Still,  the  meeting  continued  irresolute.  The  ques 
tion  of  the  medal  would  doubtless  have  been  laid  on 
the  table  had  not  Winslow,  at  that  moment,  happened 
in.  He  had  of  course  heard  of  the  lecturer's  success 
and  of  Mrs.  Chisholm's  share  in  it,  and  he  smiled  when 
he  heard  of  the  club's  project. 

"  But  now"  said  Poole,  "  these  fellers  want  to  let 
the  thing  lie  over,  till  Barker's  written  to  England 
and  got  an  answer  back." 

"  Quite  right,"  returned  Winslow.  "  It  would  be 
a  pity  to  disturb  the  man  now.  By  the  time  Barker 
has  received  an  answer  to  his  letters  the  lecture  season 
will  be  over." 

Poole  uttered  an  impatient  ejaculation.  "That's 
just  the  way  this  club  always  acts,"  he  said  discon 
tentedly.  "  Wait  till  a  thing  is  cold,  and  then  what 
good  is  it?  " 

He  gave  Pilcher  a  kick  under  the  table.  This 
meant,  "  Say  something,  won't  you?  Why  do  you 
make  me  do  all  the  talking?  " 

"  A  thing  like  this  wants  to  be  done  right  off," 
said  Pilcher  tamely. 


156        THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

A  crowd  of  young  men  came  noisily  in,  demanding 
"  what  was  up?  "  To  these  the  project  appealed  with 
peculiar  force.  They  rallied  to  Poole's  support  and 
voted,  with  speed  and  zeal,  to  "  put  it  through." 
They  voted  "  that  a  medal  of  significant  design  and 
properly  inscribed  should  be  presented  to  the  Reve 
rend  Clement  Vaughan."  Considerable  argument 
ensued  as  to  what  was  a  significant  design  and  how 
the  inscription  should  read,  but  these  matters  were 
referred  to  a  committee  consisting  of  Barker,  Poole 
and  a  man  named  Jones. 

Where  was  Barker,  anyway?  Gone  home  to  write 
his  letters,  someone  answered. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  Poole.  "  I  move  that  Shed 
presents  the  medal." 

"  Say,  look-a-here,  I  kick !  "  exclaimed  Shed. 
"  The  Parson's  a  friend  of  mine.  My  family  go  to 
his  church.  I  won't  mix  up  in  any  such  business ! " 

Poole  was  proposed  as  a  substitute. 

"  He'll  rub  it  in,"  mused  Shed.  "  I'd  let  the  Par 
son  down  easy." 

Aloud  he  added,  "  Well,  I'll  do  it,  provided  that 
you  put  me  on  the  other  committee.  I  want  to  see 
your  blamed  old  medal  before  I  deliver  it." 

The  proposition  was  accepted.  Everyone  was 
tired  of  the  discussion  and  impatient  for  the  informal 
hour  which  followed  the  routine  business,  the  hour 
when  all  the  members  smoked  while  one  told  a  story. 
He  it  was  who  "  set  up  the  drinks,"  thereby  insuring 


"THE    RABBIT    HIT'  157 

the  appreciative  atmosphere  so  necessary  to  the 
raconteur. 

It  was  Shed  Wellman's  turn  that  night.  When 
the  rest  of  the  company  were  established,  with  their 
glasses  and  their  pipes,  he  began,  a  little  hurriedly 
for  a  man  at  ease  with  himself  and  them. 

"  Boys,  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you  a  true  story,  and  I'll 
bet  you'll  say  when  I  get  through  it's  as  good  as 
a  lie." 

"Don't  you  fool  yourself!" 

"  Not  by  a  damn  sight !  " 

"  O-oh ! " 

"  Wait  till  I  get  through  before  you  holler,"  Shed 
went  on.  "  You'll  think  it's  a  lie  anyway." 

This  sounded  more  promising.  A  purr  of  appro 
bation  ran  through  the  company.  "  Git  at  it !  "  they 
cried. 

"  You  know  Dick,"  pursued  the  story-teller. 

"Cussin'  Dick?"  they  queried. 

"  Yes.     The  story's  about  him." 

"  He's  the  feller  that  got  doped,"  said  one. 

"  No,  married,"  said  another. 

"  They're  both  the  same  thing,"  said  a  third. 

"  Go  on,  Shed,"  called  the  rest. 

"  He's  been  actin'  as  foreman  on  my  ranch,  as  some 
of  you  know. — You  keep  still  till  I  get  through! — 
And  ever  since  he  come  there  my  wife  wouldn't  go 
near  the  ranch  for  fear  she'd  overhear  some  of  his 
remarks.  Best  man  I  ever  see  to  ride,  round  up  or 


158         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

throw  a  rope !  Did  it  all  with  cuss  words.  If  any  of 
you  ever  see  him "  Shed  paused. 

"  We've  seen  him,"  said  one. 

66  Heard  him,"  corrected  another. 

"  Well,  after  he  got  through  marry  in'  and  unmar- 
ryin',  he  got  religion." 

"  Dick!    Religion?  "  shouted  half  a  dozen. 

"  I'm  givin'  it  to  you  straight,"  Shed  declared. 
"  You  go  over  to  the  Methodist  church  Sundays, 
you'll  see  him  regular  as  the  day  comes  'round.  Well, 
last  week  I  was  ridin'  along,  and  off  in  the  middle  of 
a  pasture  I  see  Dick  sittin'  his  bronc,  sayin'  nothin'. 
Once  in  a  while  he'd  give  the  critter  a  clip  or  a  dig 
with  a  spur,  and  up  would  go  the  bronc's  heels. 
That's  as  far  as  they'd  got. 

"'Hullo,  Dick,'  says  I,  *  What's  the  trouble'? 
He  kinder  laughed  the  way  he  does,  a-humpin'  his 
shoulders.  '  Parson's  cut  off  my  swear  '/  says  he, 
'an'  I  ain't  worth  a — h — m — to  make  this  h — m 
h — m  go  ' !  says  he.  *  We've  got  to  get  acquainted 
all  over,'  says  he.  '  The  bronc  thinks  I  don't  mean 
a  h — m  word  I  say.'  Well,  sir,  that  afternoon  he  went 
in  to  see  the  Parson  and  back  he  come ! 

"  '  You  parallelipipedon  ' !  he  yells.  *  You  isosceles 
triangle'!  and  that  bronc  lit  out  like  the  devil  was 
after  him !  '  What's  that  mean,  Dick  '  ?  says  I.  *  Do 
you  know  '  ?  '  Keep  still,'  says  he,  *  I  don't  know, 
but  neither  does  the  bronc.  He  thinks  I'm  cussin'. 
Parson  got  the  words  out  of  the  dictionary.'  There 


"THE    RABBIT    HIT'  159 

was  a  lot  more,  but  I  can't  remember  'em  alL 
Hy-potty-noose  was  one  of  'em ! " 

The  story-teller  paused  for  recognition.  Ned 
Wilkins  laughed  appreciatively.  Those  who  had  con 
fidence  in  Ned's  ability  to  see  the  point  laughed 
with  him. 

Winslow  smiled  indulgently.  Those  to  whom  he 
was  an  oracle  measured  their  response  by  his. 

"  I  don't  suppose  it  makes  any  difference  what 
words  you  use  if  your  intentions  are  good,"  said 
Barker,  who  had  posted  his  letters  and  returned. 

This  led  to  a  discussion  as  to  what  expletives  were 
inevitably  "  cuss  words,"  what  were  the  several  grades 
and  degrees  of  blasphemous  expression,  when  swear 
ing  was  commendable,  when  superfluous,  what  it 
implied  on  the  part  of  the  swearer,  wherein  and  how 
far  it  should  be  resented  by  the  one  sworn  at.  After 
wards  they  disbanded,  promising  to  meet  at  Poole 
and  Pilcher's  the  next  day,  and  select  a  design  for 
the  medal. 

It  was  grotesque  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  exact 
ing,  big  as  a  soup  plate,  and  inscribed: 

"  To  the  Reverend  Clement  Vaughan,  F.  R.  H.  S., 
F.  R.  A.  S.,  F.  R.  M.  S.,  F.  G.  S.,  M.  V.  I. 

Champion  Liar. 
From  the  Sazerac  Lying  Club." 

Poole  and  Jones  laughed  themselves  sick  over  it. 


160         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Shed  looked  glum.  "  It's  the  sort  of  thing  that's 
dreadful  funny — on  the  other  feller,"  he  said,  as 
he  shouldered  the  box  and  started  for  the  Parson's 
study. 

There  was  no  one  there.  The  door  stood  ajar,  as  if 
to  let  in  some  of  the  faint  autumnal  sunshine,  in  lieu 
of  other  heat.  Vaughan  was  saving  his  fuel  for  the 
extreme  weather  promised  later.  For  the  Sunday 
services  and  the  mid-week  meeting  he  kindled  a  fire 
in  one  of  the  big  black  stoves  near  the  door.  But 
the  corner  where  it  stood  was  discouragingly  remote. 
The  study  partook  but  little  of  its  beneficent  glow; 
the  bedroom,  still  farther  away,  was  beyond  hope. 
From  the  Paiutis  who  had  encamped  on  the  hill  behind 
the  church  he  obtained  a  pair  of  heavy  blankets  for 
his  bed  and  did  not  suffer  at  night.  During  the  day, 
when  he  studied  and  wrote,  he  broke  away  from  his 
desk  every  now  and  then,  to  walk  up  and  down  and 
swing  his  arms. 

Shed  slowly  whirled  himself  around  in  the  office- 
chair  and  made  inward  comments : 

"Colder'n  charity!" 

"  Darker'n  the  grave ! " 

"  Not  a  damn  picture  in  the  place ! " 

Shed's  big,  handsome  house  was  full  of  pictures, 
warm  as  summer,  and  there  were  plants  in  the  windows 
and  a  canary. 

"  It  beats  Hannah  Cook !  " 

This    was    the   final    word    with    Shed.     When    a 


"THE    RABBIT    HIT'  161 

thing  beat  Hannah  Cook  there  was  no  more  to  be 
said. 

"  By  gum,  I'll  take  the  darned  thing  back,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "and  tell  the  boys  I  won't  do  it.  But 
Poole  would  jump  at  the  chance,  and  I  believe  Wins- 
low  would. — Hullo,  there  he  comes !  " 

Vaughan  entered  eagerly.  He  was  full  of  con 
fidence,  these  days.  Wherever  he  had  lectured  people 
had  been  kind  to  him.  The  attendance  had  been  good 
at  the  church  services  and  there  had  been  sociables, 
not  yielding  concessions  to  those  who  desired  to  drink 
and  dance,  but  offering  attractions  of  their  own. 
Jack  had  made  lemonade,  without  a  "  stick,"  a  barrel- 
ful  each  time,  and  had  offered  it  as  his  donation; 
and  there  had  been  songs  and  games. 

Every  day  the  young  preacher  felt  that  he  drew 
nearer  to  his  followers  and  that  they  drew  nearer  to 
him.  He  did  not  know  it  was  cold  and  dark  in 
the  study.  Nor  did  he  hold  the  absence  of  ornament 
a  lack,  as  did  his  visitor.  The  austerity  of  his  sur 
roundings,  if  he  had  considered  it,  would  have  struck 
him  as  much  more  desirable  than  the  equipment  of  the 
ranchman's  gaudy  home  on  Richmond  Hill.  It  was 
with  no  discrimination  against  his  own  poverty  in 
comparison  with  the  other's  wealth,  but  quite  the 
reverse  that  he  welcomed  the  cattle  magnate.  He 
inquired  for  Mrs.  Wellman  and  for  Tom  and  the 
little  Maud,  talked  of  church  matters,  of  the  affairs 
of  the  town  and  looked  at  the  box. 


162         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Some  of  the  boys  of  the  S.  L.  C.,"  Shed  began, 
nervously  untying  his  bundle,  "  thought  'twould  be 
a  good  joke  to  send  you  this — on — on  account  of 
your  titles,  you  know.  They  thought  you  were  tryin' 
to  fool  'em.  They  took  it  as  a  kind  of  a  stump." 

Shed  perspired  freely  and  grew  very  red.  With 
the  most  incongruous  solemnity  he  handed  over 
the  medal.  With  corresponding  gravity  Vaughan 
received  it.  There  was  an  ominous  pause. 

Finally  Vaughan  laid  the  thing  on  his  desk. 

"You  know  it's  considered  a  great  compliment 
'round  here  to  be  called  a  good  liar."  Shed  tried  to 
speak  lightly. 

"  Indeed?  "  returned  the  Parson,  with  a  lift  of  the 
eyebrow.  "  They'd  better  make  sure  first  that  I'd 
lied.  Why  didn't  they  write  to  England  and  ascer 
tain  whether  I  had  a  right  to  these — titles  ?  " 

"  They  have.  At  least  Barker  was  going  to," 
Shed  made  haste  to  rejoin.  "  But  they  couldn't  wait." 

"  I  see,"  said  Vaughan,  again  taking  up  the  medal 
and  putting  it  back  into  the  box.  "I'll  defer  my 
acknowledgments  until  they've  heard." 

"  And  so  I  come  away  feeling  like  a  blam-jam 
idiot !  "  Shed  declared  to  Pilcher,  whom  he  found  alone 
in  the  store  a  few  minutes  later.  "  Where's  Poole  ?  " 

"  Gone  out." 

"  Well,  you  tell  him  when  he  comes  in,  with  my 
compliments,  that  he's  made  an  ass  of  himself,"  a 
message  promptly  delivered  by  Pilcher. 


"THE    RABBIT    HIT"  163 

"  Oh,  he  did  say  I  was  an  ass,  did  he!"  rejoined 
Poole. 

"  Now  don't  get  mad,"  said  Pilcher. 

"  I  am  mad,"  said  Poole,  and  he  grew  madder,  not 
with  Shed,  singularly  enough,  but  with  the  Parson. 

"  I've  wanted  to  smash  his  face  ever  since  he  come 
to  Eureka,"  he  confessed  to  Pilcher;  and  Pilcher 
looked,  as  he  felt,  sympathetic.  He,  too,  was  unpre 
pared,  by  temperament  and  education,  to  resist  an 
impulse  of  this  kind. 

When  Vaughan  passed  the  store  on  his  way  to 
the  post-office,  as  was  his  custom,  late  that  afternoon, 
Pilcher  was  on  the  steps  and  accosted  him.  "  Why 
don't  you  call  in,  some  time  when  you're  goin'  by?" 
he  inquired  affably. 

"  I  will,"  replied  Vaughan,  who  always  met  friendly 
advances  at  least  halfway. 

"  You  might  stop  when  you  come  back,"  suggested 
Pilcher. 

"If  it's  not  too  late  I  will,"  promised  Vaughan. 
When  he  returned  he  found  Pilcher  still  on  the  steps, 
and  together  they  entered  the  store. 

Poole  was  leaning  over  the  counter.  "  Been  takin' 
a  little  exercise,  Pilcher  and  me,"  he  vouchsafed. 
"  This  sort  o'  weather  you  wanter  keep  your  blood 
circulatin'." 

"  Very  true,"  agreed  the  visitor.  "  What  were  you 
doing?  I'd  like  some  exercise  myself." 

"  Sparring,"  replied  Poole    nonchalantly.     "  Ever 


164         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

had  on  the  gloves  ?  "  He  led  the  way  to  the  inner 
room.  It  was  larger  than  the  store  and  empty,  save 
for  some  rough  settees  pushed  back  against  the  board 
walls.  There  were  two  windows  in  the  rear,  but  they 
gave  very  little  light.  Another  building,  a  store 
house,  had  been  erected  within  three  feet  of  Poole 
and  Pilcher's  since  their  occupancy  of  the  place. 
Already,  in  the  early  October  dusk,  the  room  required 
the  light  of  two  great  kerosene  lamps  set  into  brackets 
on  the  wall. 

He  closed  the  glass  door  and  the  transom-window 
beside  it.  Two  pairs  of  boxing-gloves  lay  on  one 
of  the  settees.  Poole  picked  them  up  and  handed  one 
pair  to  Vaughan,  who  fingered  them  irresolutely. 

"I  suppose  my  people  would  object,"  he  said, 
hesitating ;  but  he  slipped  on  first  one  glove,  then  the 
other.  Poole  was  already  equipped.  He  tapped 
the  Parson  on  the  chest.  Involuntarily  Vaughan 
responded. 

Pilcher  drew  aside.  Outside,  in  the  store,  a  boy, 
who  had  come  on  an  errand,  caught  sight  of  the  two 
shadows  bobbing  up  and  down  on  the  transom  and 
cautiously  reopened  it.  Another  boy  joined  him,  then 
a  man.  Although  facing  them,  Vaughan  did  not  see 
them ;  he  saw  only  his  antagonist. 

More  and  more  active  grew  Poole,  more  and  more 
severe  his  blows,  following  one  another  in  rapid  suc 
cession.  They  descended  with  malicious  force  on  the 
head  and  shoulders  of  the  young  Methodist.  He  was 


"THE    RABBIT    HIT'  165 

driven  into  one  corner  and  then  the  other,  pounded 
to  and  fro.  He  leaped  wildly  about,  conscious,  now, 
of  the  lookers-on  and  of  the  ludicrous  spectacle  he 
afforded  them.  The  boys  hanging  over  the  transom 
howled  with  delight.  The  man  who  had  joined  them 
guffawed.  Other  men  rushed  in.  They  climbed  on 
chairs,  elbowing  one  another.  The  transom  was  filled 
with  their  gaping,  grinning  faces.  They  shouted 
approval,  encouragement,  derision.  Vaughan's  heart 
swelled.  Anger  rose  like  steam  in  him.  With  it 
returned  the  memory  of  Frank  Henley's  instructions. 
Up  went  his  gloved  hands,  pawing  the  air.  Poole 
backed  and  parried  and  backed  again,  until  he  reached 
the  glass  door.  On  came  the  Methodist,  like  a  whirl 
wind,  his  eyes  blazing,  his  lips  tense.  All  at  once 
his  fist  shot  out,  catching  Poole  under  the  chin.  Heels 
over  head  went  the  storekeeper,  crashing  through  the 
window  in  the  door. 

Shouts  of  appreciation  issued  from  the  group  of 
men  and  boys  in  the  store.  They  jumped  down  from 
the  transom  and  surrounded  the  prostrate  Poole. 
"  Good  one !"  they  cried.  "  Hi,  yi,  yi !" 

Vaughan  pulled  off  his  gloves  and  assisted  his 
adversary  to  his  feet.  The  blood  was  streaming  down 
Poole's  face  where  he  had  been  cut  by  the  broken 
glass.  "  Bring  a  basin  of  water  and  a  clean  cloth," 
Vaughan  directed.  "There's  one  cut  which  will  need 
a  few  stitches,"  he  said  to  Poole ;  "  I'll  sew  it  up, 
unless  you'd  rather  send  for  Addison." 


166         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Addison's  full,"  reported  one  of  the  bystanders. 

Poole  winked  away  the  blood  which  trickled  into 
his  eye.  Pilcher  by  this  time  had  brought  the  water. 
Vaughan  gently  sponged  the  hurt.  "  Yes,  it  will 
take  three  or  four  stitches,"  he  said  after  examining 
the  wound. 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Poole   grimly. 

Vaughan  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  surgeon's 
case  and  immediately  went  to  work.  The  crowd  looked 
on,  well  pleased. 

"  He's  sure  markin'  ye,  Poole,"  said  one. 

"  The  Reverend  Clement  Vaughan,"  said  another. 

"F.  R.  H.  S.,  F.  R.  A.  S.,"  supplemented  a 
third. 

"F.  S.  P.— Feller  what  Smashed  Poole." 

Poole  did  not  flinch  under  the  needle  or  the  wit. 
The  surgeon  continued,  sewed  up  the  cut,  applied 
strips  of  plaster  and  stood  back  to  admire  his  work. 

"I  don't  believe  Addison  himself  could  have  done 
any  better  than  that !  "  he  said  complacently. 

"  The  show's  over,"  concluded  the  bystanders  and 
moved  away. 

"  What's  the  tax,  Parson?  "  inquired  Poole  faintly. 

Vaughan  slipped  his  case  back  into  his  pocket 
before  answering.  "  I  owed  you  that,"  he  said  briefly, 
"  for  putting  you  through  the  door." 

"  Owed  me  nothing !  "  exclaimed  Poole.  "  See  here, 
Parson,"  he  swallowed  hard,  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you. 
That  was  a  put-up  job.  I  meant  to  smash  you." 


"THE    RABBIT    HIT'  167 

"  Then  we're  quits,"  replied  the  Parson,  coloring, 
"  for — I  meant  to  smash  you." 

Poole  thrust  out  his  hand.    The  Parson  grasped  it. 

Pilcher  stared.  But  even  when  he  was  alone  with 
his  partner  he  made  no  allusion  to  the  occurrences 
of  that  afternoon. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

THE    HUMBLING    OF    MARTIN    YOUNG 

MARTIN  YOUNG  was  out  of  sorts.  The 
Henleys  saw  that  plainly  when  he  passed  the 
house,  with  a  drove  of  cattle,  on  his  way  to 
Eureka.  He  was  on  horseback  and  so  were  the  two 
men  with  him.  They  lifted  their  sombreros  as  they 
passed,  but  Martin  glanced  neither  to  the  right  hand 
nor  the  left. 

"  He's  been  like  a  bear  with  a  sore  head  ever  since 
matters  were  settled  between  Minnie  and  Will,"  said 
Frank. 

"  I  should  have  liked  to  send  some  message  to 
Clement,"  sighed  Mary. 

"  You'd  better  not  mention  Clement's  name  to  him," 
said  Frank.  "  He  thinks  Clement  was  at  the  bottom 
of  his  trouble  with  Minnie." 

"  How  could  he  be?  "  cried  Mary  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  she  asked  his  advice  or  something  of  the  sort. 
Minnie's  a  nice  girl,  but  she's  a  fool,"  said  Frank. 

The  cattle  ran  lowing  down  the  hills.  The  splendid 
October  air  was  in  their  nostrils.  A  thin  crisp  of 
snow  was  under  their  feet.  Martin,  being  in  haste 
to  get  them  down  to  Eureka  before  more  snow  should 

168 


THE  HUMBLING  OF  MARTIN  YOUNG     169 

come  to  block  the  way,  took  advantage  of  their  high 
spirits  and  fine  physical  condition,  and  by  noon  had 
reached  the  field  outside  the  town  where  Shed  Well- 
man  was  to  meet  him. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  stay  over  Sunday?  "  said  Shed, 
when  their  business  had  been  concluded. 

"  I'd  calc'lated  to,"  returned  Young. 

"  Better  drop  in  and  hear  our  new  minister,"  sug 
gested  Shed.  "  By  the  way,  he's  a  friend  of  yours, 
ain't  he?  He  told  me  he  knew  you — got  a  horse 
from  you  up  at  Galena." 

Martin  grunted. 

"Mighty  smart  young  feller!"  commented  Shed. 
"  Awfully  popular  around  here.  Goes  in  for  every 
thing,  has  fine  sociables — Jack  makes  the  lemonade 
for  'em — a  barrelful  every  time." 

"  There'd  have  to  be  a  barrelful  if  Jack  made 
it."  Martin  grinned  for  the  first  time. 

"  He  don't  put  anything  in,"  Shed  made  haste 
to  add. 

"  Don't  he?  "  cried  Martin.     "  Wanter  bet?  " 

"  I  know  he  don't,"  insisted  Shed.  "  I  guess  I've 
drunk  enough  of  it.  See  here,"  he  turned  before 
mounting  his  horse.  "  You  don't  wanter  circulate 
any  gossip  of  that  sort  'round  here.  It  might  make 
trouble."  He  swung  himself  into  the  saddle  and  rode 
away.  There  was  an  evil  look  in  Martin's  small,  red 
dish-brown  eyes  as  he,  too,  mounted  and  rode  after 
Shed. 


170         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

He  went  straight  to  the  Widow  McClintock's 
boarding-house  and  the  very  first  thing  he  said  to  the 
tableful  of  boarders  was,  "  I  hear  Jack  Perry's 
makin'  the  lemonade  for  the  Methodist  sociables  and 
that's  why,"  with  a  grimace,  "  they  draw  such  a 
crowd." 

"  He  don't  put  in  any  '  budge,'  "  said  an  honest- 
faced  young  miner.  "  Parson  wouldn't  allow  it." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  o'  that !  "  cried  the  Widow,  with 
a  toss  of  her  head. 

"  The  Parson  ain't  so  all-fired  different  from  other 
folks,"  she  declared,  with  acidity.  She  had  not  for 
given  Vaughan  for  his  sympathy  with  the  attempt 
to  pull  Dick  out  of  the  McClintock  trap. 

"  That's  just  as  sure's  you  live,"  declared  Martin 
Young.  "  You  wanter  look  out  for  these  fellers  that 
don't  smoke,  nor  chew,  nor  drink,  nor  swear,  nor 
shave " 

"  He  can  fight,"  broke  in  the  honest-faced  miner. 
"  He  give  Poole  the  knock-out  t'other  day.  Didn't 
he,  Jim?"  He  appealed  to  a  comrade  who  sat 
near  him. 

"  That's  what  he  did,  Jo,"  said  Jim.  "  We  seen 
him." 

Then  Martin  had  to  hear  the  whole  story.  Every 
where  he  went  he  heard  it.  Everywhere  he  went  they 
spoke  of  the  Parson  approvingly,  admiringly,  even. 

Martin  sickened.  "  If  you  knew  him  as  well's  I 
do,"  he  exclaimed. 


THE  HUMBLING  OF  MARTIN  YOUNG     171 

"  What  do  you  know  ?  "  they  asked  him. 

He  could  only  bluster  in  generalities.  If  he  told 
them  about  Black  Birdie,  they  would  say  the  Parson 
was  smarter  that  he  was.  If  he  told  them  about 
Minnie  Hollaway,  they  would  say  a  fellow  deserved 
to  lose  his  girl  if  he  couldn't  hold  her. 

"  You  wait ;  you'll  see,  one  of  these  days,"  he 
replied  significant!}^  and  again  repeated,  "I  hear 
Jack's  makin'  lemonade  for  the  Parson's  sociables, 
and  that's  why  so  many  go." 

By  Sunday  afternoon  the  talk  had  drifted  around 
to  Jack.  "  If  Mart  Young  comes  in  while  I'm  gone, 
you  hang  onto  him,"  he  said  to  Pere  Hyacinthe. 
"  I've  got  somethin'  to  say  to  him.  I'm  goin'  to 
meetin'  now."  Jack  rarely  missed  a  Sunday  night 
service. 

"  I  will,"  said  Pere  Hyacinthe.  He  was  arrang 
ing  the  tumblers  in  pyramids  on  the  shelf  behind 
the  bar. 

Not  long  after  Jack  went  out  Martin  appeared. 
He  had  found  three  miners  who  expressed  their  will 
ingness  to  "  set  in  to  a  game." 

The  four  clumped  noisily  in  and  entered  one  of  the 
small  rooms,  throwing  their  hats  on  the  floor.  A 
pack  of  cards  lay  on  the  table.  Martin  took  them 
up  and  shuffled  them,  calling  loudly  for  Pere  Hya 
cinthe  to  "bring  on  the  moisture." 

Martin  had  already  had  enough,  the  bartender 
decided.  He  loitered,  hoping  Martin  would  forget 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


his  order.  One  of  the  miners,  a  tall,  good-looking 
fellow,  very  trim  in  his  Sunday  togs,  arose  suddenly 
and  flung  down  his  cards.  "  It's  on  me  again,"  he 
said,  with  a  conscious  laugh.  "  I  didn't  think  I'd 
get  stuck  again  so  soon." 

"  What's  the  row  ?  "  demanded  Martin,  picking  up 
the  hand  and  running  it  over.  "  Oh  —  that  ?  "  Inef 
fable  contempt  was  expressed  in  his  voice  and  in  his 
manner  as  he  threw  across  the  room  the  card  which 
had  interrupted  the  game.  It  was  backed  like  the 
others,  but  on  its  face  it  bore  an  invitation  to  attend 
the  services  at  the  Methodist  church  that  evening. 
"  Come,  set  down,"  he  said  to  the  miner  ;  "  what  in 
hell's  that  card  to  do  with  our  game  ?  " 

"  Why,  it's  this  way,  pard,"  said  one  of  the  others 
mildly,  an  old  man  ;  "  it's  kind  of  an  understood  thing 
amongst  some  of  us,  if  the  Parson  can  put  one  o'  them 
cards  o'  hisn  inter  the  pack  an'  we  not  notice,  that 
fellow's  got  to  go  to  meetin'.  See?  I  guess's  long's 
the  party's  broke  up  I'll  go  along  with  you."  He, 
too,  arose. 

Martin  swore  furiously.  Of  all  the  blasphemed 
places  that  he  ever  got  into,  this  was  the  most  wickedly 
and  shockingly  vituperated.  He  walked  angrily  out 
to  the  bar,  demanding  his  drink.  When  he  returned, 
the  room  was  empty.  The  third  miner  had  crept  out 
and  followed  the  other  two. 

He  was  not  left  long  alone.  A  company  of  cow 
boys  entered,  riotously,  and  filled  the  saloon.  To  them 


THE  HUMBLING  OF  MARTIN  YOUNG     173 

Martin,  now  beyond  reserve  or  caution,  rehearsed 
his  woes,  beginning  with  the  loss  of  his  girl  and  end 
ing  with  the  loss  of  his  game,  blaming  the  Parson  for 
all.  The  cowboys  drew  him  on,  asked  questions, 
offered  sympathy,  suggested  means  of  redress,  shout 
ing  to  Pere  Hyacinthe  every  now  and  then  that 
"  'Twas  time  to  f'll-up."  Several  of  them  flourished 
the  flasks  they  already  had  in  their  pockets.  The 
bartender  kept  out  of  their  way  and  watched  for 
Jack.  It  was  long  past  the  usual  time  for  him  to 
return. 

There  had  been  a  special  meeting  of  the  Ways 
and  Means  Committee,  which  consisted  of  the  Parson 
and  Jack  and  whoever  else  Jack  could,  as  he  termed 
it,  "haul  in."  To-night  it  happened  to  be  Shed 
Wellman  upon  whom  he  fastened.  After  conferring 
with  the  Parson  for  a  while,  the  other  two  men  walked 
away  together,  and  renewed,  with  more  freedom,  their 
discussion. 

"  What  I  like  about  him,"  said  Jack,  in  his  cus 
tomary  drawl,  "  is  that  he  don't  '  make  a  poor 
mouth.5  " 

"  That's  what !  "  cried  Shed,  his  short,  snappy 
manner  offering  an  amusing  contrast  to  Jack's  delib 
eration.  "  I've  always  said  there  was  three  kinds  of 
poor,  the  Lord's  poor,  the  Devil's  poor,  and  poor 
devils,  and  most  generally  parsons  come  under  the 
last  head ;  but  he  don't." 

"  Not  much !  "  said  Jack,  with  a  chuckle.     "  When 


174         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

he  '  goes  broke,'  he  acts  as  if  there  was  nothin'  too 
good  for  him." 

"  Sure !  "  declared  Shed.  "  He's  a  regular  High 
Tippy  Bob  Royal !  That's  what  I  told  Mart  Young 
yesterday.  But  Mart  can't  see  any  good  in  him,  for 
some  reason  or  other." 

"  I  may  have  to  deal  with  Mart,"  said  Jack 
slowly. 

They  had  neared  the  saloon.  Sounds  of  the  horse 
play  within  floated  out  to  them.  Jack  quickened  his 
pace.  As  they  mounted  the  steps  they  heard  Martin 
Young,  quite  beyond  restraint  now,  complaining  bit 
terly,  while  his  noisy  companions  applauded  every 
word. 

With  one  stride  Jack  was  in  their  midst.  It  was 
good  to  see  his  great  shoulders  heave  and  to  catch 
the  gleam  in  his  steel-gray  eyes.  The  talk  and  laugh 
ter  ceased.  Even  Martin  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
then  he  began  again,  "  Nothin'  but  prayer-meetin's. 

Jack  ain't  the  same  since  he  made  lemonade " 

He  stopped,  his  jaw  fell,  before  the  look  in  the  saloon 
keeper's  eyes. 

"  Go  on !  "  said  Jack. 

"  W-w-w-with  a — a  stick  in  it,"  stammered  Martin. 

"Goon!"  said  Jack. 

"  F-f  or  the — the  Parson's — sociables !  I — I — was 
only  f  oolin',  Jack.  Honest,  I  was  only  f  oolin' ! 
Don't  shoot,  for  God's  sake,  don't  shoot ! " 

"  Get  down  on  your  knees,"  thundered  Jack,  with 


THE  HUMBLING  OF  MARTIN  YOUNG     175 

his  revolver  at  Martin's  head,  "  and  say,  '  I'm  a 
damn  liar ' !  " 

Martin  stumbled  to  his  knees.  "  I'm  a  damn  liar ! " 
he  mumbled. 

"  Stay  where  you  are!  "  commanded  Jack.  "  And 
— crawl  to  the  Parson's  study  and  when  you  get  there 
lick  his  boot  and  say  again,  *  I'm  a  damn  liar.9  Go 
on,  now!  Crawl!  " 

There  was  deathly  silence  in  the  room.  Martin 
looked  up,  saw  death  in  the  shining  barrel  before  him, 
death  in  the  pitiless  gray  eyes  that  met  his  own,  and 
he  crawled,  across  the  floor,  down  the  steps,  into  the 
street. 

His  late  comrades  pressed  to  the  door  and  stood 
staring  after  him.  Over  at  Jackson's,  the  loiterers 
on  the  corner  stared,  amazed.  What  was  this  thing 
that  slowly,  painfully,  came  out  and  down  and  up 
the  street?  A  misshapen  quadruped?  A  monstrous 
worm? — It  could  not  be  a  man! 

They  crossed  the  street.  Others  came,  from  saloon 
and  dance-house  and  alley,  to  stare  and  question. 
What  was  it?  A  man?  What  was  he  doing?  Why 
did  he  do  it?  They  saw  the  revolver,  and  Jack,  and 
drew  back.  On  and  on  Martin  crawled,  up  the  hill, 
painfully,  his  hands  cut  by  the  frozen  ground,  his 
head  heavy,  his  heart  faint ;  and  behind  him,  with 
the  revolver — Jack.  So  they  came  to  the  church,  to 
the  door  of  the  study.  Martin  paused. 

"  Go  on,"  called  Jack's  voice.    He  went  on. 


176         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Vaughan  was  reading  by  his  desk,  under  the  lamp. 
Absorbed  in  his  book,  he  heard  nothing.  Slowly  the 
door  was  pushed  open.  A  rough,  red-brown  head 
appeared  and  approached  him,  hanging  down.  Two 
hands,  crimsoned  and  bleeding,  struck  out  over  the 
floor.  The  creature  crawled  to  him,  put  out  a  big 
swollen  tongue,  licked  his  boot,  mumbled,  "  I'm  a 
damn  liar,"  then  sprang  up  and  fled. 

A  long,  sinewy  arm  reached  out,  on  the  threshold, 
caught  him,  shook  him,  and  hurled  him  into  the  night. 
Vaughan  saw  for  an  instant  Jack's  face,  then  it,  too, 
disappeared.  He  had  seen  the  other,  in  that  brief, 
dreadful  moment,  the  small,  blood-shot  eyes,  the  thick, 
matted  beard ;  and  had  known  it  for  Martin  Young's. 
And  never,  in  all  his  life,  though  he  live  to  be  an  old, 
old  man,  would  he  see  on  a  human  face  such  a  look 
^f  unutterable  hatred  as  he  saw  on  that  face  then. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

A  CRUSADE    FOE    TEMPEEANCE 

IT  became  known,  throughout  Eureka  and  the 
ranches  around,  at  Galena  and  Lewis  and 
Ruby  Hill,  that  anyone  who  meddled  with 
the  Parson  would  sooner  or  later  have  to  settle  with 
Jack.  Martin  Young's  experience  had  told  to  what 
lengths  Jack  would  go  in  administering  what  he  called 
justice.  The  affair  of  Tim  Noonan  showed  that  he 
also  meant  to  keep  order. 

Tim  came  into  one  of  the  Wednesday  night  prayer- 
meetings  the  worse  for  liquor  and  flung  himself  down 
in  the  corner  by  the  stove.  The  heat  and  the  sing 
ing  of  the  hymns  sent  him  off  to  sleep  at  first,  but 
he  awoke,  confused  and  quarrelsome,  when  the  Parson 
began  his  address. 

"I  say,"  he  shouted,  "  tha'  ain't  so.  Nobuddy 
b'lieves  tha'  now." 

Vaughan  had  encouraged  interruption,  when  it 
betokened  a  desire  to  get  at  the  truth,  or  a  difference 
of  opinion.  But  interruption  of  this  sort  was  not  to 
be  tolerated.  He  stopped  preaching  and  looked  at 
Tim. 

"  Be  silent,"  he  said  sternly,  "  or  out  you  go ! " 

177 


178         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"Ain't  goin'  to  be  silent,"  returned  Tim.  "Preachin' 
lies.'  'Tain't  so." 

Down  from  the  platform  stepped  the  preacher  and 
took  Tim  by  the  collar.  "  You  must  go  out,"  he  said 
firmly. 

"  Want  any  help,  Parson  ?  "  inquired  half  a  dozen. 

"  I  think  not,"  was  the  reply.  Tim  demurred, 
tried  to  argue,  pulled  this  way  and  that,  but  went, 
and  the  services  continued. 

A  few  evenings  afterwards,  a  sober,  penitent  Tim 
entered  the  Parson's  study  and  laid  on  the  desk  one 
of  the  long  leather  whips  used  by  the  mule-drivers, 
known  as  a  "  black  snake."  Without  a  word  he  began 
to  pull  off  his  coat. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  asked  Vaughan,  in  sur 
prise. 

"  Jack  Perry  told  me  to  come  down  here  and  '  peel 
to  the  buff,"  said  Tim,  "  and  let  you  lay  on  till 
the  blood  come,  'cause  I  done  what  I  did  t'other 
night." 

"  You  didn't  know  what  you  were  doing,"  replied 
the  Parson,  touched  by  Jack's  loyalty  and  by  Tim's 
submission.  "Tell  Jack  you've  apologized  and  it's 
all  right." 

"  I  hain't,  though,"  said  Tim. 

"  Yes,  you  have,  when  you  laid  that  whip  on  my 
desk,  I'd  like  to  keep  the  whip."  Vaughan  had  not 
outgrown  a  boyish  fondness  for  souvenirs.  They 
shook  hands  and  parted. 


A    CRUSADE    FOR    TEMPERANCE    179 

This  story,  too,  went  abroad  and  traveled  as  far  as 
Winnemucca.  Not  precisely  the  divinity  that  hedges 
a  king,  but  the  atmosphere  which  may  surround  an 
obscure  Methodist  parson  when  he  is  squired  by  such 
an  one  as  Jack,  surrounded  Vaughan.  Penrose  gave 
him  half  a  column  in  the  Eureka  Sentinel  every  Mon 
day.  His  lectures  were  reported  in  full.  All  his 
movements  were  chronicled.  Katharine  clipped  every 
notice  and  burned  the  papers. 

"  But  I  do  wish  he  was  a  Churchman,"  she  sighed, 
and  laid  traps  for  him,  with  little  books  entitled, 
"  Why  I  am  an  Episcopalian,"  and  "  The  Apostolic 
Succession,"  books  which  Clement  meant  to  read  but 
somehow  never  found  the  time.  He  was  very  busy, 
organizing  guilds  among  the  young  people — a  man's 
club,  a  woman's  sewing  society — and  flying  off  to 
lecture  whenever  and  wherever  anybody  would  have 
him. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all  he  had  a  call  from  Ricker,  the 
Cornish  preacher  at  Ruby  Hill. 

"  Brother  Vaughan,"  said  Ricker,  "  I  have  had  it 
borne  in  upon  me  that  ye'll  have  to  preach  temperance 
for  a  while,  until  this  besotted  land  awakes  to  the  error 
of  her  ways." 

"  Why,  I've  been  preaching  temperance  ever  since 
I  came  here,"  returned  Vaughan. 

"  Aw  know,"  replied  Ricker,  "  but  ye'll  have  to  get 
out  and  shout  for  it,  and  mek'  'em  hear.  'Tain't  the 
preachin'  from  your  own  doorstep,  where  they  order 


180         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

what  they  please  and  take  what  they  like,  that  works 
meeracles." 

"  I  hear  you  warm  them  up  pretty  well  out  at 
Ruby  Hill,"  said  Vaughan,  who  found  the  big,  bluff 
Cornishman  extremely  interesting.  "Your  people 
are  born  theologians,  anyway." 

"  An'  obstinate,  an'  set,  an'  consated,"  said  Ricker. 
"  What  did  Tregoning  do  the  other  day,  he  and  his 
*  committee,'  but  wait  on  me  when  I  was  in  bed  with 
the  influenzy  and  ask  me  to  alter  my  style  of  preach 
ing  !  They  wanted  something  new !  Said  I,  '  Tregon 
ing,  you're  onreasonable.  I've  given  you  a  variety. 
I've  given  you  Sanctification,  Believer's  Justification, 
The  Triumphant  Host,  The  Church  Militant.  Last 
Sunday  I  gave  ye  Heaven ;  next  Sunday,  all  being 
well,  I'll  give  you  Hell !  "  There  was  not  the  ghost  of 
a  smile  on  Ricker's  face,  but  his  blue  eyes  glinted. 

"  That  is  what  they  want,"  said  Vaughan,  with  a 
laugh ;  he  could  laugh  about  it  now. 

"  Well,  Brother  Vaughan,  consider  what  I've  said," 
urged  the  Cornishman,  "  an'  the  Lord  be  with  ye." 

"  Amen,"  said  Clement. 

He  considered  what  Ricker  had  said,  long  and 
earnestly,  and  finally  decided  that  here  again  he  had 
heard  the  Voice  of  God.  In  addition  to  his  engage 
ments  to  lecture  and  his  mission  to  preach,  he  under 
took  to  turn  from  the  error  of  their  ways  the  drinking 
men  and  women  of  Eureka  and  the  neighboring  towns. 

He  wrote  to  John  Harman,  the  Superintendent  of 


A    CRUSADE    FOR    TEMPERANCE     181 

Missions,  what  he  had  decided  to  do,  unless  it  was 
deemed  inadvisable  by  the  man  whom  he  always  con 
sulted  as  his  chief,  and  usually  forgot  as  soon  as  he 
had  consulted  him.  Harman  replied  at  great  length, 
laboriously  detailing  the  pros  and  cons  of  such  an 
undertaking,  then  suddenly  appeared  in  Eureka  and 
told  the  young  preacher  to  "  go  ahead."  His  great, 
round  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles.  He  had  heard  on 
every  corner  of  the  work  Vaughan  was  doing. 

"  I  knew  you  had  it  in  you,  my  boy,"  he  said 
affectionately,  laying  his  heavy  hand  on  the  young 
man's  shoulder.  "  I  don't  very  often  make  a  mistake 
in  a  matter  of  this  kind.  Of  course  you'll  have  to 
move  cautiously  and  not  antagonize  people  wherever 
it  can  be  avoided.  But  you  probably  don't  need  to 
be  told  that.  You've  used  a  good  deal  of  tact  thus 
far.  I  hear  you're  very  much  liked  up  on  Richmond 
Hill." 

He  raised  his  eyebrows  significantly.  Vaughan 
abruptly  changed  the  subject,  spoke  of  the  books 
he  had  been  reading,  introduced  topics  which  admitted 
of  discussion,  wherein  Harman  play ed  no  feeble  part. 
He  was  a  born  debater,  and  for  an  hour  or  more  sat 
in  the  long,  narrow,  dimly  lighted  study,  unconscious 
of  his  surroundings  in  the  warmth  of  argument.  He 
left  with  manifest  reluctance  when  the  loud  clanging 
of  bells  and  the  blowing  of  steam-whistles  told  him 
it  was  noon.  Vaughan  was  not  sorry  to  see  him  go. 
He  had  been  included  in  the  invitation  to  dine  at 


182         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Shed  Wellman's,  but  did  not  regret  having  an 
engagement  to  hold  a  noon  meeting  at  one  of  the 
mines.  He  went  to  it  full  of  zeal. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  busy,  exciting  days. 
His  new  departure  he  found  greatly  to  his  liking. 
For  the  first  time  he  tasted  actual  danger;  and  he 
found  it  sweet.  Every  hour  was  full  of  hairbreadth 
escapes. 

Mary  Henley  drove  down  from  Galena  with  Frank 
to  expostulate  with  him.  When  she  saw  him,  she 
cried  out  in  dismay.  He  seemed  to  be  looking  at  her 
through  smoked  glasses. 

"  Who  hit  you  ?  "  asked  Frank  briefly. 

"  The  city  marshal,"  Vaughan  replied,  with  an 
attempt  at  a  smile.  "  He  said  I  was  hired  to  do  this 
temperance  work,  and  I  told  him  he  lied." 

"  He  must  have  been  infernally  quick  to  black  both 
eyes  at  once,"  commented  Frank,  examining  the 
bruises  critically. 

"  He  didn't.  I « turned  the  other  cheek,'  "  Vaughan 
replied.  "  I  never  felt  quite  satisfied  with  the  part 
I  played  in  that  Poole  affair " 

"  It  was  the  best  thing  you  ever  did,"  broke  in 
Frank,  "  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  your  reputa 
tion  and  your  influence.  What  sort  of  effect  did  this 
have !  "  Frank  uttered  an  exclamation  of  disgust. 

"Filled  the  hall,"  returned  the  young  preacher. 
"  I  hadn't  had  large  audiences  before.  Last  night 
they  came  in  droves." 


A    CRUSADE    FOR    TEMPERANCE     183 

"Well,  well!  "  ejaculated  Frank. 

Mary  glowed.  But  she  sighed,  nevertheless.  "  Oh, 
Clement,  it  is  fine,  it  is  magnificent, — but  your  pre 
cious  life — don't  risk  it !  " 

"  Who  told  me  to  '  take  the  leap  in  the  dark,  and 
to  fear  nothing,'  less  than  a  year  ago?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  did,  I  did,"  she  acknowledged,  "  but  I  never 
thought  it  would  be  like  this." 

"It  will  probably  be  worse  before  I'm  through 
with  it,"  he  returned. 

There  was  an  exultant  ring  in  his  voice.  He  liked 
the  thrill,  the  dare,  the  consciousness  of  power.  His 
relish  for  them  dismayed  her.  She  would  have  had 
him  calmer,  more  dignified,  more  serene,  conquering 
by  the  soothing  arts  of  peace.  Even  in  turning 
the  other  cheek  he  had  defied  the  man  who  struck 
him. 

"Was  it  true  that  the  French  saloon-keeper  out 
at  Morning  Star  drew  his  revolver  on  you  ?  "  inquired 
Frank. 

Vaughan  laughed.  "  How  did  you  hear  that  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Will  Dower  heard  it  at  Battle  Mountain.  Is  it 
true?" 

"  Yes,  he  said  I'd  spoiled  his  business.  I  unbut 
toned  my  coat  and  said  '  Shoot  away !  You  can't 
hit  me.'  " 

Vaughan's  eyes  shone  like  stars  in  their  dark  set 
tings. 


184         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  You  don't  want  to  take  too  many  chances,  young 
man,"  said  Frank  warningly. 

Mary  gazed,  fascinated,  fearing  she  knew  not  what. 

"  You  are  worn  out,  now,"  she  said  reprovingly, 
66  as  nervous  as  you  can  be." 

"  Nervous  ?  Look  at  that !  "  He  stretched  out  his 
hand  and  held  it,  without  a  tremor,  for  some  seconds. 
"Don't  worry,"  he  called  after  them,  as  they  drove 
away.  But  they  went  home  more  troubled  than  they 
had  come. 

Mary  was  full  of  forebodings.  Even  Frank  con 
fessed  to  being  anxious. 

On  Richmond  Hill,  likewise,  the  stories  were  told, 
and  Vaughan  was  given  more  or  less  of  glory  accord 
ing  to  the  animus  of  the  story-teller.  It  was  Winslow 
who  described  the  two  black  eyes;  he  made  them 
absurd.  Haverford  told  about  the  saloon-keeper,  not 
without  a  certain  lukewarm  admiration  for  the  cour 
age  displayed,  but  confessing  a  lack  of  sympathy 
with  the  "  movement." 

Katharine  herself  was  extremely  uneasy  over  her 
protege's  last  challenge  to  the  public,  not  only  on 
account  of  the  menace  to  his  personal  safety,  but 
because  she  hated  to  think  of  him  at  the  mercy  of 
the  mob,  in  a  position  to  be  laughed  at  and  criticized. 
Yet  she  could  not  resist  a  thrill  of  pride  when  Ned 
Wilkins  said,  "  The  Parson's  all  right.  He's  good 
stuff!" 

"  Wait  till  I  tell  you  what  I  saw  to-day,"  he  added. 


A    CRUSADE    FOR    TEMPERANCE     185 

"'Twas  down  there  in  front  of  Jack's.  There 
was  a  fellow  going  for  the  Parson  just  about  as  the 
Frenchman  did,  at  Morning  Star.  He'd  just  whipped 
out  his  revolver  when  a  pair  of  runaway  horses  came 
galloping  down  the  hill.  You  know  how  icy  it  is  on 
that  corner.  The  sleigh  slewed  around " 

"  Where  was  the  driver?"  inquired  Miss  Emmeline. 

"  On  the  floor  of  the  sleigh — drunk ! "  replied  Ned. 
"  Vaughan  sprang  for  the  horses  and  succeeded  in 
stopping  them.  Incidentally  he  saved  himself,  for 
the  fellow  with  the  pistol  would  have  shot  him  before 
we  could 'have  got  there.  We  had  him  fixed  by  the 
time  Vaughan  came  back." 

"Did  Jack  see  him?" 

"  Yes,  Jack  was  there." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  Proud  as  a  peacock." 

Haverford  arose  to  say  his  adieus.  Winslow 
lingered. 

"  Going  my  way  ?  "  inquired  Haverford. 

"  Presently,"  returned  Winslow. 

Haverford  waited.  Winslow  still  delayed.  At 
length,  seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  resigned 
himself  to  Haverford's  companionship.  Halfway 
down  Main  Street  he  paused  abruptly. 

"  I've  forgotten  something,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I'll 
have  to  go  back.  Don't  wait." 

Haverford,  his  suspicions  now  thoroughly  aroused, 
turned  and  watched  him.  It  was  a  ruse,  no  doubt, 


186         THE    SAGE   BRUSH    PARSON 

to  make  an  opportunity  for  speaking  with  Mrs. 
Chisholm  alone.  Could  Winslow  not  see,  what  they 
all  saw  so  plainly,  that  her  feelings  had  changed 
towards  him,  that  he  was  no  longer  singled  out  by 
her  approval,  that,  on  the  contrary,  she  avoided  him? 

Five  minutes  passed,  ten.  He  walked  uneasily  up 
and  down.  Evidently  Winslow  had  not  met  with  a 
rebuff,  after  all.  Could  it  be  possible  that  Mrs. 
Chisholm's  .manner  veiled  emotions  of  a  different 
character  from  those  Haverford  attributed  to  her? 
His  pulse-beats  quickened.  Half  an  hour  had  elapsed 
and  still  there  was  no  sign  of  his  missing  companion. 
Someone  else  came  hurrying  along,  someone  whose 
quick,  light  step  he  knew. 

"  Good-evening,  Vaughan,"  he  called ;  "  have  you 
seen  anything  of  Winslow?  " 

Vaughan  started  in  surprise. 

"  Yes.    Why?  "  he  returned. 

"  He  left  me  some  time  ago — half  an  hour  or  more," 
said  Haverford  hastily.  "  He  said  he  had  forgotten 
something.  They  don't  usually  like  to  have  callers 
so  late." 

"  They  ?  "  repeated  Vaughan  vacantly. 

"  The  Richmond  Hill  people.  That  was  where  he 
was  going,  of  course.  There's  no  one  else  in  this  part 
of  the  town  on  whom  he  calls." 

Vaughan  remained  silent.  It  was  not  the  house  on 
Richmond  Hill  that  he  had  seen  Winslow  enter,  but 
the  small  cottage  in  which  old  Mother  Macy  lived. 


A  CRUSADE  FOR  TEMPERANCE  187 

Her  husband  worked  in  the  mine,  on  the  night  shift, 
and  pretty  little  Ellen  Brady,  Mary  Flynn's  sister, 
had  gone  there  to  remain  until  she  should  find  a  better 
place.  He  had  seen  Winslow  approach  the  cottage, 
glance  furtively  around,  then  hurry  up  the  path  to 
the  door.  He  had  seen  the  light  shine  out  from  within, 
framing  Ellen's  light  curls,  had  heard  her  innocent 
girlish  cry  of  welcome,  and  had  seen  Winslow  enter — 
as  a  man  enters  his  own  house ! 

"  Well,  good-night,"  said  Haverf  ord,  as  they  came 
to  Jackson's  Corner.  "  I  suppose  you  are  very  busy, 
these  days." 

"  Yes,  very  busy,"  replied  Vaughan  absent-mind 
edly.  For  the  moment,  even  his  work  for  temperance 
seemed  to  have  been  blotted  out. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE    DAEE 

THE  topic  most  discussed  and  wrangled  over, 
in  Eureka,  apart  from  the  themes  related 
to  daily  work,  was,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
religion.  Nor  was  this  as  strange  as  it  seems.  The 
virtues  which  religion  inculcates — fortitude,  patience, 
faith — arc  the  virtues  of  the  miner.  The  rewards  it 
has  to  offer — support  here,  consolation  hereafter — 
appeal  especially  to  him.,  In  the  constant  presence 
of  danger  a  man  is  not  able  to  forget  his  own 
soul  even  if  he  would,  in  the  continual  endurance 
of  hardship  he  is  driven  to  face  the  great  questions 
of  life,  of  destiny,  of  the  relations  of  man  to  God  and 
God  to  man.  So,  when  it  chanced  that  a  prominent 
lawyer  of  well-known  atheistic  tendencies,  publicly, 
in  the  columns  of  the  newspapers,  wagered  a  large 
sum  that  no  clergyman  in  the  United  States  would 
read  aloud  in  church  certain  chapters  of  the  Book 
designated  as  Holy  and  declared  to  be  inspired,  the 
challenge  was  taken  up  and  talked  about  in  Eureka 
as  if  it  were  a  personal  affair. 

Particularly  in  Jack  Perry's  saloon  was  argument 
rife.     Everyone  acknowledged  that  Haverford  would 

.183 


THE    DARE  189 


not  read  those  chapters ;  neither  would  Mumf  ord,  the 
Presbyterian  minister,  nor  Father  O'Keefe,  the  Ro 
manist.  Of  Vaughan  they  were  less  sure.  "  If  he 
thought  the  Old  Gentleman  put  them  there  for  him 
to  read,  he'd  read  'em!  "  insisted  Jack. 

"  But,  Jack,"  returned  Barker,  who  had  scented 
argument  afar  off,  as  a  war-horse  scents  battle,  and 
had  hurried  in,  "  that's  the  point.  This  man  who 
writes  for  the  newspaper  contends  that  '  the  Old  Gen 
tleman,'  as  you  call  Him,  didn't  put  in  those  chapters  ; 
he  thinks  'twas  the  work  of  the  Other  Fellow." 

"Then  it's  no  God's  Book!"  declared  a  gray- 
haired  miner  sadly. 

Barker  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Jack  whispered 
in  the  ear  of  a  boy  who  stood  near.  The  boy 
disappeared  and  soon  returned  with  Vaughan  in 
tow. 

"  Parson,"  said  Jack,  as  the  young  Methodist 
hurried  into  the  saloon,  wondering  what  had  happened 
or  what  was  about  to  happen,  for  he  had  received 
only  the  message  to  come  down  to  Jack's,  "  Parson, 
I  want  to  ask  you  some  questions." 

Vaughan  glanced  hastily  around  the  room,  saw 
Barker,  saw  Jo  and  several  other  miners  in  the  habit 
of  attending  his  church,  saw  Winslow,  who  had  just 
come  in,  noted  the  unsettled  look  on  Jo's  face, 
Barker's  quizzical  smile,  Winslow's  satirical  twitching 
of  the  lip,  suspected  mischief,  and  braced  himself. 
"  Go  on,"  he  said. 


190         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Do  you  swallow  the  Bible  whole?  "  inquired  Jack 
earnestly. 

"  I  swallow  it  whole,  Jack,"  Vaughan  answered. 
"  Have  you  heard  me  preach  all  this  time,  not  to 
know  that?" 

"  You  don't  throw  out  none  of  it  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word ! "  declared  the  young  preacher 
stoutly. 

Jack  turned  in  triumph  to  the  group  of  cavilers  and 
doubters. 

"  Why  ?  "  pursued  Vaughan. 

"  'Cos  this  ere  boomer  of  infiddle-ism  who  writes 
for  the  papers  says  there  ain't  a  preacher  in  the 
United  States  but  throws  out  a  lot  of  it  that  ain't 
fit  for  a  decent  man  to  read  or  decent  folks  to  hear. 
I  thought  there  was  one  preacher  in  the  United  States 
that  would  take  his  '  dare.' "  Jack  plumed  himself 
like  a  turkey  cock. 

"  Let  me  see  the  paper,"  said  Vaughan  quietly.  He 
read  over  the  list  of  chapters  referred  to  by  the  chal 
lenger  and  saw  at  once  the  pit  into  which  he  had 
leaped.  He  could  hear  Jack  say,  "  I  told  you  so.  I 
knew  he'd  stand  to  it."  Jack's  acquaintance  with 
The  Book  was  limited  to  what  he  had  heard  read  in 
church. 

"Well,  Parson,  what  do  you  think  of  the  list?" 
inquired  Barker. 

Winslow  laughed. 

Not  for  worlds  would  Vaughan  now   retract  or 


THE    DARE  191 


hedge.  He  temporized.  "  I  suppose  you  will  all 
bring  your  wives  and  daughters  to  hear  me?  "  he 
queried. 

"  CVr-tain !  "  said  Jack.  He  had  neither  chick 
nor  child,  and  good  old  Martha,  his  honest  wife,  was 
deaf  as  a  post. 

"  Well,  hardly,"  said  Barker.  Louise  Barker  was 
one  of  the  prettiest  girls  in  Eureka  and  one  of  the 
best  beloved. 

"  Oh,  it's  to  be  all  men ;  very  well,"  said  Vaughan. 
He  had  gained  one  point. 

"  And  you  will  bring  your  Bibles  to  see  that  I  read 
the  chapter,  word  for  word?  "  he  pursued. 

"  Sure,"  said  Jack.  He  wasn't  positive  there  was 
a  Bible  in  the  house,  but  there  ought  to  be.  Martha 
probably  had  one. 

"  And  I  shall  be  allowed  to  make  whatever  personal 
application  I  please  ?  "  Vaughan  continued. 

"  You  bet,"  said  Jack.  No  one  demurred ;  that 
would  be  confessing  too  much. 

"  And  you  shall  hear  me  through,"  Vaughan  con 
cluded.  "  I'm  not  going  to  have  any  one  of  you  go 
away  and  misinterpret  or  half  interpret  what  I've 
said.  The  door  will  be  locked." 

To  this  also  every  man  agreed,  and  an  evening  was 
set  for  the  reading  of  the  chapter. 

With  long,  earnest  thought  and  many  prayers  did 
the  young  preacher  prepare  himself  for  the  encoun 
ter.  The  evil  with  which  he  meant  to  grapple,  armed 


192         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

with  the  text  afforded  by  the  chapter,  was  one  which 
he  had  avoided,  until  now.  With  every  nerve  in  his 
sensitive  body  he  shrank  from  the  mention  of  it.  And 
yet  he  had  realized  from  the  outset  that  some  day, 
somehow,  he  must  cleanse  the  Augean  stables  of  Eu 
reka  dance-halls  and  dens.  He  shared  with  most  men 
the  instinctive  feeling  that  a  man's  personal  habits 
are  his  own  concern.  The  privileges  of  his  profession 
thus  far  had  failed  to  warrant  his  prying  too  deeply 
into  his  neighbor's  private  affairs.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  were  boys  and  young  men  in  Eureka  who  must 
be  prevented  from  holding  lightly  the  sacred  mys 
teries  of  life  and  sex.  And  there  was  Mary  Flynn's 
sister  Ellen,  the  pretty  little  blue-eyed  Irish  lassie — • 
he  could  not  see  her  go  the  way  of  the  flaming 
courtesan ! 

So  he  said  within  himself  and  pondered,  planned 
and  rejected  his  plans,  wrote  out  sermons  and  de 
stroyed  them,  more  confused  and  perplexed  than  at 
any  time  since  his  coming  to  Eureka. 

The  boy  who  rang  the  bell  for  services  at  the 
church  and  swept  out  occasionally  could  not  under 
stand  why  the  Parson  was  so  anxious  to  be  rid  of  him 
that  night.  He  hung  around  the  corner  to  watch, 
and  when  he  saw  forty  men, — he  was  sure  there  were 
forty,  for  he  counted, — file  solemnly  in,  each  with  a 
Bible  in  his  hand,  he  determined  to  slip  in  behind  them 
and  see  "  what  was  up." 

To   his    chagrin    the   Parson   quickly    closed    and 


THE    DARE  193 


locked  the  door.  It  was  of  no  use  to  apply  his  eye 
to  the  keyhole — the  key  was  in  the  lock.  And,  listen 
as  he  might,  he  heard  only  the  usual  reverent  tones  of 
prayer  and  Scripture-reading.  So  he  stole  away. 

Within,  there  was  a  hushed  and  curious  company. 
Nearly  everyone  Vaughan  knew  was  there.  Shed 
Wellman  and  Dick,  Poole  and  Pilcher,  Jo  the  miner 
and  his  mates  ;  Barker,  very  prominent  in  a  front  seat ; 
Addison,  sober  for  once ;  Mat  Kyle,  awed,  but  full  of 
confidence  in  the  Parson,  and  Jack,  watchful  as  an 
old  dog. 

Arthur  Sinclair  was  not  present,  but  Ned  Wilkins 
was  there.  So  was  Penrose,  the  editor  of  the  Eureka 
Sentinel,  and — Vaughan  started  as  he  recognized  him 
— Eugene  Winslow. 

The  chapter  was  not  lacking  in  dignity  or  impres- 
siveness  as  Vaughan  read  it.  It  contained  words  not 
used  in  polite  society,  but  it  is  safe  to  assert  everyone 
present  had  heard  them,  knew  what  they  meant.  Nev 
ertheless,  the  reader  assumed  ignorance  on  the  part 
of  his  listeners  and  explained,  as  he  would  explain  any 
other  unfamiliar  composition,  the  harsh  utterances, 
their  superficial  meaning  and  their  deep  significance. 
Then  he  closed  the  book  and  made  his  personal  appli 
cation. 

It  was  personal.  He  called  each  man  by  name,  laid 
bare  his  hidden  sin,  gave  facts,  dates  even.  It  was  a 
bold  thing  to  do ;  but  no  one  seemed  to  resent  it.  Each 
culprit,  as  his  turn  came,  wriggled  on  his  scat, 


194         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

blushed,  laughed  like  a  schoolboy  caught  pilfering  an 
orchard,  tried  to  think  it  was  no  great  affair — it  was 
something  at  which  men  laugh,  of  which  few  are 
ashamed,  some  even  proud.  Yet,  in  spite  of  them 
selves,  they  were  ashamed.  The  relish  for  the  unlaw 
ful  had  been  taken  away. 

Winslow  watched  them  with  a  bitter  smile.  If  he 
h?.d  had  such  experiences — but  he  never  had;  no  one 
had  ever  seen  him  enter  a  dance-hall  or  a  den,  no  one 
had  ever  seen  him  speak  to  the  women  of  the  under 
world,  but  if  they  had,  no  beggarly  Methodist  parson 
should  call  it  to  his  remembrance. 

Suddenly,  the  long  brown  forefinger  of  the  young 
preacher  was  pointed  directly  at  him. 

"  All  these  are  venial  sins,"  he  was  saying,  "  com 
pared  with  the  sin  of  him  who  takes  an  innocent  young 
girl » 

In  a  flash  Winslow  was  on  his  feet,  revolver  drawn. 

"  Another  word  and  I'll  blow  your  brains  out ! " 
he  shouted. 

Instantly  Dick,  Jo  the  miner  and  half  a  dozen 
others  had  covered  him.  The  room  was  in  confusion ; 
men  were  leaping  over  chairs,  calling  out,  "  Don't 
shoot!"  "Disarm  him!" 

In  the  midst  of  the  uproar  Jack  Perry's  voice  rang 
out,  clear  and  steady  as  a  trumpet-call,  "  I'll  take 
care  of  this,  gentlemen !  Keep  your  sittin' !  Give  me 
that  shootin'  iron,  Winslow,  or  I'll  pump  ye  as  full 
of  lead  as  a  lead-mine !  " 


THE    DARE  195 


White  and  shaking  like  an  aspen,  Winslow  relin 
quished  his  weapon.  "  Ye're  a  dirty  dog,  if  ye  are 
Eugene  Winslow,"  Jack  growled  in  a  low  undertone 
as  he  received  it. 

"  He's  no  gentleman,"  blustered  Winslow.  "  There 
isn't  a  man  alive  who  will  allow  a  lady's  name  to  be 
brought  into  a  discussion  of  this  kind." 

"  He  didn't  name  any  names,"  returned  Jack. 
"  He  warn't  dealin'  with  anyone  but  you ;  and  you 
agreed,  like  the  rest  of  us,  to  fall  in  and  take  your 
medicine.  Set  down." 

Winslow  sat  down. 

"  Go  ahead,  Parson,"  said  Jack.  But  the  Parson, 
like  everyone  else  in  the  room,  felt  that  there  was 
nothing  more  to  be  said,  just  then.  The  fire  had  been 
kindled.  A  spirit  had  been  aroused  which  could  be 
left  to  do  its  work. 

He  uttered  a  brief  prayer  for  guidance,  and  sup 
port,  and  strength,  unlocked  the  door  and  let  them 
go. 


CHAPTER    XX 

KATHAEINE     WOULD     LIKE     TO     KNOW 

THE  next  morning's  issue  of  the  EureJca  Sen 
tinel  contained  this  item :  "  Those  individ 
uals  who  gave  a  certain  Reverend  Gentle 
man  the  dare,  last  night,  received  more  than  they 
bargained  for ;  at  least,  so  it  is  said." 

Katharine  read  the  paragraph,  over  and  over,  but 
failed  to  penetrate  its  significance.  She  was  quite 
sure  Vaughan  was  meant  by  the  "  Reverend  Gentle 
man,"  but  what  was  "  the  dare  "  ?  Who  gave  it  ? 
How  did  they  get  "  more  than  they  bargained  for?" 
Katharine  would  very  much  like  to  know. 

Whom  should  she  ask?  None  of  her  immediate 
household.  They  were  too  ready  now  to  detect  in 
everything  she  said  or  did  her  interest  in  this  extraor 
dinary  young  man.  Ned  was  out  of  town  for  a  day 
or  two,  on  business  for  the  firm.  Winslow  came  but 
seldom  to  the  house  nowadays;  he  was  out  of  the 
question,  anyway.  There  remained  Mr.  Haverford. 
She  would  write  him  a  note  and  ask  him  to  go  riding 
with  her. 

She  hastily  penned  a  few  lines  and  dispatched  them 
by  Jerry.  In  a  half -hour  he  had  returned,  bearing 

196 


KATHARINE  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW     197 

the  answer,  "  With  pleasure.  At  three  this  after 
noon.  F.  H." 

Donning  her  most  becoming  habit,  of  a  rich,  deep 
velvety  blue,  and  setting  a  mannish-looking  hat  upon 
her  most  feminine  head,  all  bright  waves  of  hair  with 
out  and  carefully  concocted  schemes  within,  she 
awaited  with  some  impatience  the  coming  of  her 
escort,  in  the  meanwhile  walking  up  and  down  the 
long  veranda  which  commanded  the  street.  There  he 
was,  at  last,  with  that  monkey  of  an  Elsie  perched  in 
front ! 

"  Have  you  been  waiting  long? "  he  inquired, 
alighting  and  lifting  down  the  child. 

"  Ten  minutes  or  more,"  she  coldly  returned.  She 
hated  to  be  kept  waiting,  as  he  knew.  "  Where  did 
you  find  that  young  woman?  " 

"  She  met  me  at  the  gate,"  he  answered,  with  a 
smile ;  "  we  didn't  expect  you  to  be  so  prompt." 

"  Where's  Marguerite,  Elsie  ?  "  demanded  Katha 
rine,  turning  to  her  daughter,  who  stood  de 
murely  looking  on,  her  small  hands  clasped  before 
her. 

"  Having  lessons  with  Aunt  Emmeline,  mamma," 
returned  Elsie  sweetly.  "  Lessons  with  Aunt  Emme 
line  "  was  a  movable  feast,  adjusted  to  the  inclination 
of  the  teacher. 

"  Well,  you'd  better  have  lessons,  too,"  said  her 
mother.  "  Go  in  and  tell  Aunt  Emmeline  I  said  so. 
Run  along !  " 


198         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Elsie's  lips  quivered,  but  she  obeyed. 

"  I've  been  trying  for  a  year  to  have  a  regular 
governess  for  the  children,"  said  Katharine,  as  they 
trotted  away,  "  but  Arthur  won't  hear  of  it  and 
Mabel  always  thinks  just  as  he  does.  Elsie  is  almost 
six  years  old." 

"  Her  brain  is  very  active,"  returned  Haverf  ord 
conventionally. 

"  The  more  reason  for  its  being  occupied,"  said 
Katharine  resolutely.  She  was  not  in  the  best  of 
humor.  She  seemed,  to  herself,  to  have  somehow  lost 
control  of  her  little  world.  It  no  longer  came  to  her 
for  counsel  and  direction.  Once,  not  a  move  had  been 
made  until  she  approved  of  it.  Now,  everyone  went 
his  or  her  own  way,  and  she  was  left  alone. 

She  had  not  much  cared  what  they  did,  in  these 
last  few  months.  Her  eyes  had  been  on  one  figure, 
her  ears  keen  to  catch  whatever  might  be  said  about 
one  person.  And  he — he  went  his  own  way,  also! 
That  should  have  cooled  her  interest,  but  it  was  the 
rather  stimulated. 

She  had  always  despised  that  sort  of  a  woman,  the 
sort  that  is  neglected  into  caring.  She  must  throw 
off  this  prepossession,  summon  her  little  court,  play 
the  queen  again.  Here  was  Haverf  ord,  to  begin  with. 
She  would  assert  her  old  sway  over  him,  by  no  means 
a  difficult  undertaking. 

She  turned  to  him  with  her  most  charming  manner, 
a  blend  of  confidence  and  command.  "  We've  seen 


KATHARINE  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW     199 

very  little  of  you  lately,  except  at  church,"  she  said 
graciously. 

Haverford,  surprised,  began  to  frame  excuses. 
There  had  been  the  Lenten  services,  the  rehearsals  for 
Easter  music.  He  was  quite  well  aware  that  he  could 
have  found  time  for  calling;  and  in  his  soul  he  knew 
that  he  should  have  done  so  if  he  had  for  a  moment 
suspected  that  he  was  missed. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  responded  pensively ;  "  it  is 
the  busiest  time  of  the  year  for  you.  But  it  is  the 
dullest  time  of  the  year  for  us,  the  time  when  we  most 
need  our  friends.  However  early  spring  may  come, 
it  always  seems  late." 

"  But  it  is  certainly  coming.  Look  there !  "  He 
pointed  to  the  buds  showing  on  a  cottonwood  tree. 
Beyond  it,  down  the  valley,  a  tender  light,  half  mel 
ancholy,  half  gladness,  altogether  wistful  and  appeal 
ing,  transformed  the  plain  out  of  its  customary  com 
monplace  into  unquestionable  charm. 

"  It  really  looks  as  if  it  might  be  going  to  do 
something  fine  and  beautiful,  doesn't  it !  "  exclaimed 
Katharine ;  "  bring  forth  roses  instead  of  sage 
brush!" 

"  It  might,  if  it  were  watered  and  sown,"  said 
Haverford  gravely. 

Was  there  an  undertone  of  meaning  in  his  voice,  a 
sympathetic  vibration  to  the  needs  of  the  neglected 
plain? 

She  glanced  at  him  as  he  straightened  himself  in 


200         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  saddle  and  tightened  the  rein  which  had  been  lying 
loose  on  his  horse's  neck,  deciding,  as  she  had  many 
times  before,  that  he  was  a  vtery  handsome  man.  His 
clear-cut  features,  fine,  full  brow,  the  poise  of  his 
head  on  his  shoulders  made  up  an  ensemble  which  ap 
pealed  to  her  love  of  the  refined  and  the  distinguished. 
What  did  he  lack?  What  did  he  need  to  make  of  him 
a  great  man?  Only  what  she  could  give,  what  she 
had  given,  years  ago,  when  she  was  Katharine  Sin 
clair  and  he  was  the  rector  of  a  church  in  the  eastern 
city  where  she  spent  one  winter  among  friends — the 
life,  the  fire,  the  quickening  force  she  knew  so  well 
how  to  give. 

She  had  induced  him  to  return  with  her  to  Eureka 
and  he  had  assumed  the  charge  of  the  little  church 
she  built.  He  had  surprised  and  swayed  his  people 
for  more  than  a  twelvemonth,  until  Guy  Chisholm 
had  appeared  and  carried  her  away.  Then  the  life 
had  dwindled,  the  fire  had  gone  out,  the  force  had 
failed.  He  had  remained  at  Saint  Stephen's, — his 
Bishop  had  said  "he  was  a  good  man  for  the  place, 
an  earnest  Churchman  and  without  encumbrances," — • 
arid  Katharine  had  been  kind,  had  written  during  her 
absence,  had  seen  much  of  him  since  her  return.  He 
was  always  ready,  now,  to  come  when  she  called,  to 
fulfill  her  commissions,  to  answer  her  questions — she 
was  suddenly  reminded  of  the  question  she  intended 
to  ask  him  this  afternoon.  "  By  the  way,"  she  said 
aloud,  "do  tell  me  what  that  paragraph  meant  in  the 


KATHARINE  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW     201 

Sentinel  this  morning !  Who  is  *  the  Reverend  Gen 
tleman?  '  It  wasn't  you,  was  it?  Who  dared  him,  to 
do  what?" 

Haverf ord  stiffened.  "  It  was  not  I,  I  assure  you !  " 
he  said,  with  energy.  "  A  disgraceful  performance  i  " 

Shje  was  all  attention.  "  Disgraceful?  "  she  re 
peated;  "you  surprise  me!  Who  was  it?  What  was 
the  occasion?  " 

"It  was  Vaughan,  of  course.  Whatever  is  un 
usual,  bizarre,  it  is  safe  to  refer  to  him.  Excuse  me, 
he  is  a  friend  of  yours."  Haverford  paused. 

"  Go  on,"  she  cried.  "  Don't  spare  him  on  my  ac 
count.  What  has  he  done,  now?  " 

Haverford  still  hesitated. 

"  I  know  he  is  very  unconventional,"  she  continued 
hurriedly ;  "  but  he  is — untrained,  in  a  way.  If  he 

could  be  brought  into  the  Church "'  She  actually 

looked  to  Haverford  for  encouragement  and  support ! 

He  uttered  a  hasty  ejaculation.  "  My  dear  young 
lady,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  What  could  the 
Church  do  with  such  a  man?  He  wouldn't  conform, 
be  dictated  to  in  the  slightest  particular — he  doesn't 
even  keep  order  among  his  own  followers.  Do  you 
know  what  he  does?  He  encourages  any  ignorant 
son  of  Cornwall  or  Cork  to  interrupt  him  in  the  mid 
dle  of  a  sermon — will  interrupt  himself,  as  they  tell 
me  he  did  the  other  day.  They  were  singing  '  Nearer, 
my  God,  to  Thee,'  and  had  reached  the  line,  '  E'en 
though  it  be  a  cross  that  raiscth  me ' — *  You  don't 


202         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

mean  that,'  he  said,  '  I'm  afraid  /  don't ! '  and  then 
and  there  began  to  pray  that  they  might  mean  it ! 
Sensational,  that's  what  he  is ;  a  Methodist,  when 
you've  said  that,  you've  said  all." 

"  He  certainly  does  a  great  deal  of  good  among 
the  poor,"  interposed  Katharine  warmly. 

"  Y-es,  he's  kind.  He  likes  to  potter  around  and 
to  visit  the  sick.  He  has  that  affectionate  manner 
which  takes  with  a  certain  class  of  people." 

Katharine's  cheeks  burned.  In  another  moment 
she  would  have  thrown  discretion  to  the  winds;  but, 
as  luck  would  have  it,  Eugene  Winslow,  also  on  horse 
back,  met  them,  just  as  she  was  about  to  enter  on  a 
defense  of  the  young  Methodist  and  his  methods. 

To  this  chance  meeting  Haverford  attributed  her 
heightened  color.  The  suspicions  aroused  that  night 
on  Main  Street  were  revived  in  him  and  grew.  He 
withdrew  sensitively  into  himself,  and  Katharine,  di 
verted  from  the  subject  and  chilled  by  his  manner, 
spoke  no  more  of  Vaughan  or  of  the  item  in  the 
Sentinel.  They  turned  to  other,  impersonal  themes. 
Much  of  the  time  they  rode  without  speaking. 

There  was  an  awkward  silence  at  the  door.  It  was 
Haverford  who  broke  it. 

"  I  have  felt  for  some  time,  Mrs.  Chisholm,"  he 
said  formally,  "  that  my  work  in  Eureka  really 
ended  years  ago — if  I  could  have  the  courage  to  face 
the  facts.  I  have  about  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  the 
Bishop  to  transfer  me  to  another  field." 


KATHARINE  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW     203 

Katharine  looked,  as  she  felt,  annoyed.  Why  did 
he  speak  in  that  aggrieved  tone,  as  if  she  were  to 
blame  for  his  shortcomings  and  disappointments? 

"  We  should  be  very  sorry  to  lose  you,"  she  re 
turned,  with  equal  formality.  "Perhaps  you  will 
reconsider  it."  She  gathered  up  her  habit  and  left 
him  standing  there. 

Mabel  was  in  her  room.  She  answered  Katharine's 
knock  with  a  cheerful  "  Come ! "  and  removed  a  pile 
of  petticoats  from  the  big  chair  by  the  window  by 
way  of  invitation  to  be  seated. 

"  Tired  ?  "  she  queried,  as  her  sister-in-law  threw 
herself  down  among  the  cushions  with  a  sigh. 

"  Yes,"  said  Katharine  wearily,  "  I  am.  It  isn't 
spring  enough  to  be  soothing  and  restful.  The  air 
is  like  a  whip.  You  go  on  and  do  things  and  suddenly 
realize  you've  gone  too  far.  I  don't  think  I  shall 
ride  again  until  it  is  settled  weather."  She  picked 
up  her  riding-crop  and  drew  her  skirts  about  her. 

"  Don't  go,"  said  Mabel.  She  was  dressing  for 
dinner,  with  the  painstaking  care  she  devoted  to  this 
daily  ceremonial,  her  offering  to  Arthur.  "  Don't 
go,"  she  repeated,  "  it  never  takes  you  long  to  dress ; 
and  I  want  to  ask  you  something."  Katharine  sank 
languidly  back  again  in  the  inviting  recesses  of  the 
great  chair.  "  What  is  it?  "  she  inquired  carelessly. 

"  I  wonder  why  Arthur  is  so  out  of  sorts  with 
Eugene  Winslow."  Mabel  paused  in  the  act  of 
thrusting  among  the  masses  of  her  dark  brown  hair 


204         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  jeweled  comb  which  went  through  the  fiction  of 
confining  it. 

"  Is  he?  "  returned  Katharine  indifferently.  "  I'm 
sure  I  don't  know. 

"  I  think"  said  Mabel  mysteriously,  her  brown 
eyes  round  as  a  child's,  "  that  it  has  something  to  do 
with  that  item  in  the  Sentinel  this  morning." 

Katharine's  languid  interest  awoke.  "  What  makes 
you  think  so  ?  "  she  inquired,  suddenly  sitting  up 
right. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  just  feel  that  it  has.  I'm 
going  to  ask  Arthur  when  he  comes  home.  I  know 
he  won't  tell  me,  but  I'm  going  to  ask  him." 

"  You  absurd  child !  "  laughed  Katharine.  How 
very,  very  pretty  Mabel  was,  in  that  tangle  of  lace 
and  ribbons  she  called  a  neglige.  It  was  no  wonder 
Arthur  adored  her.  And  she  was  quite  content  to 
remain  with  him,  here  in  the  wilderness !  How  little 
difference  it  made  where  a  woman  lived,  if  she  had  the 
one  she  loved  beside  her ! 

"  I  think  '  the  Reverend  Gentleman  '  was  '  C.V.,'  " 
pursued  Mabel,  employing  the  children's  name  for 
him,  "  because  of  something  Arthur  said  when  he  read 
the  notice." 

"What  did  he  say?"  demanded  Katharine.  She 
had  quite  forgotten  her  own  fatigue  and  Mabel's 
prettincss. 

"  Something  about  Methodists,  I've  really  forgot 
ten  what.  So  when  '  C.V.'  called  this  afternoon " 


KATHARINE  WOULD  LIKE  TO  KNOW     205 

"Has  Mr.  Vaughan  been  here?"  cried  Katharine, 
sharply.  "  What  did  he  say  ?  Did  he  ask  for  me  ?  " 

"  He  didn't  ask  for  anyone,  Katharine.  He  just 
stayed  for  a  half -hour  or  more,  playing  with  the  chil 
dren,  and  then  went  away.  I  didn't  know,  until 
Arthur  should  tell  me  something  about  it,  how  I  was 
to  act.  So  I  didn't  go  down." 

The  little  airs  which  Mabel  assumed  of  "  the  obe 
dient  wife  "  would  have  touched  Katharine's  sense 
of  humor  at  another  time  and  in  relation  to  another 
subject.  At  present  they  irritated  her.  "  I  do 
wish,"  she  said  pettishly,  "  that  you  could  sometimes 
think  for  yourself  and  not  wait  till  Arthur  tells  you 
what  ideas  are  suitable.  Of  course,  Mr.  Vaughan 
knew  there  must  be  some  of  us  in  the  house.  Where 
was  Emmeline?  " 

"  Reading  in  her  room.  She  has  a  novel  she  is 
crazy  to  finish.  Marguerite  says  she  reads  it  while 
she  combs  her  hair.  I  don't  think  he  expected  to  see 
any  of  us,  Kitty.  I  questioned  Nora  afterwards,  and 
she  said  he  didn't  ask  for  a  soul. 

"  If  I  find  out  anything  I'll  tell  you,"  she  added,  as 
Katharine  arose  to  leave  the  room.  "  I'll  do  what  I 
can  with  Arthur.  Of  course,  I  don't  know  what  sort 
of  a  mood  he  may  be  in." 

She  did  her  pretty,  coaxing  best  when  her  husband 
came  home,  but  for  once  her  dainty  wiles  were  in 
effectual. 

"  Child,"  he  said  at  length,  "  it  is  something  I  don't 


206         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

care  to  have  you  hear.  Isn't  that  enough,  little 
one?" 

His  voice  had  in  it  the  note  of  reproachful  tender 
ness  which  invariably  sent  Mabel  into  fits  of  penitence 
for  having  called  it  forth.  "  Forgive  me,"  she  mur 
mured,  with  her  lips  against  his  cheek. 

She  avoided  Katharine's  inquiring  glance  at  dinner, 
and  when  they  met  in  the  hall  on  their  way  to  bed  she 
whispered  in  her  sister-in-law's  ear,  "  It's  of  no  use, 
Kitty.  He  simply  doesn't  want  to  have  me  know.  I'm 
afraid  it's  pretty  bad." 

What  was  pretty  bad?  The  challenge,  or  the  man 
ner  in  which  it  was  accepted?  How  was  Eugene 
Winslow  implicated?  If  Vaughan  had  said  or  done 
anything  he  was  ashamed  of,  he  surely  would  not 
have  called  that  afternoon.  But  evidently  Haverford 
and  even  Arthur  thought  he  ought  to  be  ashamed. 
Was  the  lack  in  him  or  in  them,  that  they  misinter 
preted,  perhaps,  an  innocent,  even  a  praiseworthy, 
motive?  These  were  some  of  the  things  which  Kath 
arine  would  very  much  like  to  know. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


MR.  EUGENE  WINSLOW  came  home  from 
what  he  considered  the  Methodist's  unpar 
donable  attack  upon  him,  greatly  shaken 
and  with  a  deep  sense  of  humiliation  and  helplessness. 
It  was  the  first  time  Eureka  had  ever  seen  him  dis 
turbed  out  of  his  customary  dignity  and  calm,  and 
he  had  been  five  years  in  the  town. 

Still  under  thirty,  he  had  a  reputation  over  half 
the  State  for  clear-headed,  cool-headed  common  sense, 
the  ability  to  grasp  the  situation  and  do  the  thing 
which  should  be  done,  with  enough  learning  to 
prove  his  right  to  do  it.  He  expected,  and  so  did 
everyone  else,  that  he  would  be  the  next  district  at 
torney.  Barker  coveted  the  distinction,  deserved  it, 
when  he  was  sober,  and  was  nearly  twice  Winslow's 
age.  Probably  he  would  get  it  now,  thought  the  agi 
tated  lawyer,  seating  himself  at  his  desk  and  burying 
his  head  in  his  hands. 

It  was  a  bad  move  to  antagonize  Jack.  Confound 
the  Methodist,  how  did  he  know?  It  was  like  him  to 
be  "  snooping  around !  "  What  would  they  say  on 
Richmond  Hill! 

207 


208         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Over  and  over  again  he  reviewed  the  evening  and  its 
influence  upon  his  future  until  his  brain  was  sore. 
How  could  he  right  himself?  How  could  he  belittle, 
degrade,  make  ridiculous,  the  one  who  had  exposed 
him?  The  two  desires  were  one. 

Schemes  mad  as  the  gallop  of  wild  horses  raced 
through  his  brain,  followed  by  slower,  more  cunning 
plans.  At  last  he  detained  one,  scrutinized  it,  ques 
tioned  it,  and  smiled  approvingly.  He  drew  pen  and 
paper  towards  him  and  commenced  to  write. 

Gradually  the  tension  relaxed.  He  sighed,  the  long 
fluttering  sigh  of  one  who  sees  the  clouds  lift.  In 
expression,  whatever  the  result  might  be,  he  was  find 
ing  relief.  Only  the  rapid  progress  of  the  pen  over 
the  paper  told  how  he  was  yet  moved.  He  drove  the 
words  before  him  like  a  flock  of  sheep.  Now  and  then 
he  stopped  and  read  what  he  had  written,  laughing  to 
himself.  The  color  came  back  to  his  cheeks,  the  light 
to  his  eyes.  He  was  himself  again. 

Night  passed,  day  came  and  found  him  there,  still 
eager,  alert,  determined.  Once  more  he  ran  through 
the  closely  written  pages  and  smiled.  He  gathered 
the  sheets  together  and  caught  his  hat  from  the  table 
where  he  had  flung  it  on  his  return  from  the  church. 
In  a  very  different  mood  from  that  which  possessed 
him  then,  he  ran  lightly  down  the  stairs  and  hurried 
along  the  street. 

The  lights  in  the  office  of  the  Sentinel  were  being 
lowered  out  of  deference  to  the  sun,  and  because  Pen- 


"ALL    FOOLS"  209 

rose  was  through  his  work  until  after  breakfast.  He 
looked  up  as  Winslow  entered,  not  wholly  pleased  at 
the  interruption. 

"  I  have  something  for  the  paper:  is  it  too  late?  " 
asked  Winslow  abruptly. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  said  Penrose  with  decision,  "  and,  any 
way,  if  it's  about  last  night,  I'll  tell  you  to  begin  with 
that  I  mean  to  say  very  little  about  that  affair." 

"  Who  wants  you  to  say  anything  about  it?  "  re 
turned  Winslow  loftily.  "  This  article  is  concerned 
with  an  entirely  different  matter.  Of  course,  if  you 

don't  care  to  look  it  over "  he  made  a  move 

towards  the  door. 

"  Hold  on.  Don't  go  off  like  that ! "  cried  Pen- 
rose.  He  had  too  many  times  sought  out  the  lawyer 
for  advice  and  information  and  the  phrasing  of  an 
editorial  to  send  him  away  dissatisfied  or  unsatisfied. 
"  Let's  see  what  you've  got."  He  held  out  his  hand 
for  the  manuscript.  "  I  thought " 

"  You  thought  I  was  as  crazy  as  the  rest  of  you," 
finished  Winslow.  "  I'm  not.  I  was  indignant  at 
that  fellow's  actions,  and  how  the  rest  of  you  could 
sit  like  a  lot  of  ninnies — I  don't  want  to  talk  about 
it " 

"  Give  us  your  stuff !  "  urged  Penrose,  again  ex 
tending  his  hand.  Winslow,  with  a  laugh,  relin 
quished  his  papers. 

Penrose  was  tired,  but  he  was  also  curious.  There 
was  something  in  Winslow's  manner,  at  once  compla- 


210         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

cent  and  eager,  which  stimulated  inquiry.  He  had 
something  there  which  was  worth  while  or  he  would 
have  waited  to  bring  it  later. 

Penrose  hitched  his  chair  along  to  the  window, 
drew  the  shade  higher  and  began  to  read.  Before 
he  had  read  half  a  dozen  lines  a  low  chuckle  broke 
from  him.  At  the  bottom  of  the  page  he  laughed 
aloud. 

Winslow  grinned,  in  sympathy  and  self-apprecia 
tion.  Penrose  hurried  on.  Again  he  laughed  and 
wagged  his  head  from  side  to  side.  His  face  bright 
ened.  The  lines  of  fatigue  disappeared.  It  was  not 
often  in  his  daily  routine  that  he  happened  upon  any 
thing  so  full  of  meat.  He  looked  up  at  the  lawyer, 
as  he  concluded,  with  an  expression  very  like  awe  on 
his  thin,  sallow  face. 

"  It's  good  enough  for  any  big  New  York  daily," 
he  said  solemnly.  "  By  jiminy  crocus,  Winslow, 
how'd  you  ever  do  it  ?  " 

"  I've  thought  about  these  things  for  some  time," 
said  Winslow  modestly.  "  I've  read  a  good  deal  on 
the  subject.  That's  why  I  can't  stand  hearing  these 
half-baked,  uneducated  fellows  around  here  under 
take  to  tell  people  what  to  believe." 

"  It'll  raise  hell  among  the  ministers,"  said  Pen- 
rose,  "  if  I  print  it." 

"You're  not  obliged  to  print  it,"  said  Winslow. 

"  But  it'll  go  all  over  the  United  States,"  pursued 
Penrose,  thinking  aloud.  "  It's  dynamite,  XLL, 


"ALL    FOOLS" 


ninety-five  per  cent.,  sure's  you  live,  but  it's  great!  " 
He  again  glanced  over  the  sheets  he  held  in  his  hand. 
"  Do  you  want  to  sign  your  name  to  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I'll  sign  my  initials,"  replied  Winslow. 

"  All  right,  sir.  In  she  goes  !  "  said  Penrose.  "  It's 
too  late  for  to-day's  paper,  but  it'll  be  in  to 
morrow's  —  Wednesday's." 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Winslow.  "  And  there's 
another  thing  I  want  to  speak  about,  Penrose.  Some 
one  ought  to  organize  a  debating  club  to  discuss  these 
live  topics  :  why  don't  you  do  it?  " 

"  Me?  "  cried  Penrose  in  dismay.  "  I  couldn't  run 
a  debating  club  to  save  my  damned  neck." 

"  You  wouldn't  have  to,"  returned  Winslow  easily. 
"  Get  it  started  and  elect  a  president  and  you  wouldn't 
have  any  more  trouble." 

"  There  wouldn't  anyone  take  the  office,"  declared 
Penrose,  "  and  there  I'd  be  with  a  club  on  my  hands. 
You've  always  said  you  hadn't  time  for  such  things." 

"  Oh,  well,  in  an  affair  of  this  kind  —  right  in  my 
line,"  began  Winslow. 

"  Would  you  be  president  of  such  a  club  ?  "  inquired 
Penrose  point-blank. 

"  Why  yes,  if  they  wanted  me  to." 

"  All  right,  sir  :  we'll  see  what  we  can  do." 

"  Penrose,"  said  Winslow  solemnly,  u  I  am  con 
vinced  that  you  and  I  between  us  can  accomplish 
a  great  deal  in  the  intellectual  development  of 
Eureka." 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  I  don't  know  about  my  part  of  it,"  said  Penrose 
humbly  ;  but  he  was  evidently  taken  with  the  plan. 

Before  the  two  men  separated  they  had  organized 
the  Eureka  Debating  Club,  on  paper,  selected  its 
officers  and  written,  a  notice,  to  appear  in  the  same 
newspaper  with  Winslow's  article,  appointing  Thurs 
day  night  for  the  first  meeting,  to  be  held  in  the 
schoolhouse. 

It  was  not  until  Winslow  had  left  the  office  that 
Penrose  remembered  that  this  was  the  night  of  the 
Methodist  mid-week  prayer-meeting.  It  never  oc 
curred  to  him  that  Winslow  had  been  aware  of  the  fact 
and  had  arranged  the  hour,  seven,  to  attract  such  of 
the  parson's  loyal  adherents  as  would  not  remain  away 
from  church,  but  might  be  induced  to  drop  in  on  their 
way  to  the  half-past-seven  service. 

There  was  one  person  in  Eureka  who  saw  this 
plainly,  discerned  the  motive  in  Winslow's  article  — 
the  real  purpose  of  the  debating  club,  —  no  less  a  per 
son  than  Samuel  Barker.  His  encounters  with  the 
wily  young  advocate,  in  court  and  out  of  it,  had,  as 
he  expressed  it,  "  put  him  on  to  Winslow's  curves," 
and  he  chuckled  mightily  when  he  overheard  Mumford 
say,  "  This  is  directed  against  the  very  foundations  of 
belief." 

"  The  very  foundations  of  Vaughan  !  "  returned 
Barker.  "  Guess  I'll  go  around  and  see  what  he 
thinks  of  it." 

He  found  the  young  preacher  in  his  study  talking 


"ALL    FOOLS"  213 

earnestly  to  Jerry  Flynn.  Jerry  looked  troubled  and 
left  the  room  without  so  much  as  saying  "  Good-day." 
Vaughan,  himself,  was  evidently  disturbed  and  paid 
but  indifferent  attention  to  Barker's  comments  upon 
Winslow  and  his  works. 

"  So  you  needn't  be  surprised  or  offended,"  said 
Barker,  "  if  the  attendance  is  slim  at  the  prayer- 
meeting  to-morrow  night. — They'll  all  go  to  the 
club,  after  reading  that  article." 

"What  article?  "  inquired  Vaughan, 

Barker  threw  up  his  hands.  "  You  haven't  heard 
a  word  I've  been  saying !  "  he  cried.  "  Here,"  he 
pulled  Wednesday's  Sentinel  out  of  his  pocket  and 
threw  it  on  the  desk.  "  Read  this  and  get  it  through 
your  head  what  Winslow's  up  to." 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  what  is  in  it  ? "  inquired 
Vaughan. 

Barker  gave  him  a  quizzical  look.  "  A  rehash  of 
Voltaire  and  the  encj^clopaedists  done  into  mining  and 
cowboy  vernacular;  but  it's  cleverly  done.  Read  it, 
read  it!" 

"Are  you  in  a  hurry  for  your  paper?"  asked 
Vaughan. 

"  No.  But  you  must  read  it,  right  away.  You've 
got  to  preach  to  the  D.  P.  I.  next  Sunday.  You 
know  it's  *  All  Fools,'  and  as  chaplain  of  the  D. 

PT  99 
•       JLm " 

"  Who  said  I  was  chaplain  of  the  D.  P.  I?"  inter 
rupted  Vaughan,  smiling  in  spite  of  himself. 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  I  did,"  said  Barker  ;  "  next  Sunday  being  Our 
Day,  you'll  have  to  preach  to  Us.  The  Masons  have 
a  Day,  and  so  does  the  G.  A.  R.  Why  not  the  D. 
P.  I.?  Let  me  know  definitely  by  Friday,  so  that  I 
can  advertise.  I  shall  count  on  you,  so  don't  fail 
me." 

He  left  the  church,  and  Vaughan  returned  to  his 
thoughts  —  anxious  thoughts  they  were,  of  the  danger 
that  threatened  the  pretty  sister  of  Mary  Flynn. 

His  visit  to  Richmond  Hill  the  previous  day  had 
not  had  for  its  object  the  romp  which  the  children 
claimed,  or  the  interview  which  Katharine  missed,  but 
was  planned  solely  to  convey  through  Nora  a  message 
to  Jerry  asking  him  to  come  to  the  church.  The  two 
men  had  conferred  long  and  earnestly,  but  without 
arriving  at  any  definite  conclusion. 

"  She's  that  high  strung,  sor,"  said  Jerry,  "  if 
we  say  too  much  she'll  kick  over  the  traces,  and  there 
ye  are  !  I'll  talk  with  Mary,  but  I'm  doubtin'  't'll  do 
anny  good."  So  they  left  it. 

The  Wednesday  Sentinel  remained  on  the  table 
where  Barker  had  flung  it,  unopened  till  the  follow 
ing  morning,  after  prayer-meeting. 

There  was  by  no  means  the  usual  attendance  — 
young  girls  and  the  women  who  always  came  were 
present,  but  there  was  not  a  man  in  the  church,  save 
the  parson  himself. 

Yet  Dick  had  ridden  in  from  the  Wellman  ranch 
"  on  purpose  to  go,"  he  had  himself  told  Vaughan 


"ALL    FOOLS"  215 

when  they  met  on  the  corner.  And  Jo  and  his 
crowd  had  not  in  weeks  missed  a  single  service.  Shed 
Wellman  was  out  of  town.  Jack  and  Mat  were  both 
busy.  But  what  had  become  of  the  others  ?  Vaughan 
delayed  the  meeting,  hoping  they  would  appear. 
Suddenly  Barker's  warning  recurred  to  him.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  gave  out  the  opening  hymn. 

As  soon  as  the  worshipers  had  departed  and  the 
lights  were  out,  he  returned  to  his  study  and  took  up 
the  Sentinel.  Winslow's  effort  was  not  hard  to  find: 
it  was  on  the  front  page  between  "  Job  Jumper  Can 
Return,  Says  Jury  Sitting  on  The  Mexican's  Re 
mains  "  and  "  Under  the  Red  Light :  Eight  Bichloride 
of  Mercury  Tablets  Did  The  Business  of  Self-De 
struction."  Between  these  two  headings  there  was 
an  attractive  brevity  about  Winslow's  "  Is  There  a 
God?" 

Vaughan  read  it  eagerly  from  beginning  to  end — • 
not  a  word  escaped  him.  As  Barker  had  said,  it  was 
cleverly  done.  The  heaviness  of  argument  was 
avoided,  yet  argument  was  there,  plausible,  convinc 
ing,  and  through  it  all  glittered  and  shone  the  laugh 
ter  of  the  man  whose  method  had  been  borrowed  along 
with  his  plea.  Especially  did  it  play,  like  heat 
lightning,  about  Methodism  and  the  Methodists. 

Stung  wideawake  by  the  hints,  the  allusions, 
Vaughan  caught  pen  and  paper,  and  as  Winslow  had 
written  he  wrote,  unconscious  of  his  surroundings 
until  dawn  mocked  his  lamp.  Then  he  pushed  back 


216         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

what  he  had  written,  his  sermon,  his  D.  P.  I.  sermon, 
written  on  the  text  "The  Fool  Hath  Said  in  His 
Heart  There  Is  No  God,"  broke  his  fast,  went  to 
Barker's  office  and  left  word  that  he  would  preach 
as  requested,  and  set  out  on  a  walk  over  the  Geiger 
Grade. 

Two  hours  later  he  came  home,  full  of  response  to 
the  beckoning  April,  reread  the  carefully  composed 
sentences  in  which  he  had  attempted  to  reinstate  in 
the  Universe  the  God  Winslow  had  elbowed  out,  tore 
the  manuscript  in  shreds,  and  gave  his  mood  ex 
pression  in  a  dozen  pages  or  more  of  a  very  different 
sort. 

Barker  lost  no  time,  after  receiving  Vaughan's 
message,  in  making  ready  a  notice  for  the  Sentinel. 
It  read  as  follows :  "  Next  Sunday  being  All  Fools' 
Day  a  service  will  be  held  for  the  D.  P.  I.,  in  the 
Methodist  church.  A  sermon  will  be  preached  to  Fools 
by  a  Fool."  Saturday  night  the  significant  row  of 
lighted  candles  appeared  on  Main  Street,  announcing 
a  business  meeting,  and  every  member  of  the  D.  P.  I. 
who  could  get  there  came. 

Sunday  morning  the  little  church  was  packed  to 
the  doors  with  a  motley  assembly,  men  and  women, 
high  and  low,  the  grave  and  the  gay.  There  was 
some  jesting  as  they  met  outside,  but  inside  decorous 
behavior  prevailed.  The  usual  hymn,  the  usual 
prayer  opened  the  services,  and  then  the  preacher 
gave  out  his  text :  "  I  said  of  laughter,  it  is  mad." 


"ALL    FOOLS" 


Joyous  as  the  Spring  influences  which  entered  his 
veins  that  day  on  the  Geiger  Grade  were  the  words 
in  which  he  described  the  innocent,  untamed  laughter 
of  childhood,  the  sweet  madness  of  youth.  Thence 
he  led  them,  by  story  and  instance  and  quotation,  to 
hear  the  jubilant  outcry  of  triumph,  the  crooning  of 
humor,  the  piping  of  wit,  the  shout  of  ripe  manhood, 
the  cackle  of  age  —  all  mad  ! 

They  heard  it.  They  saw  figure  after  figure  fall 
on  the  screen  of  their  imagination.  Then  came  a 
hush,  like  darkness,  before  the  exquisite  voice  went  on  : 
"  O  potent  Laughter,  woe  to  the  earnest  man,  if  you 
creep  into  the  links  of  his  armor  !  Woe  to  the  leader 
in  whose  train  you  are  found  !  Woe  to  the  sentiment 
against  which  you  set  up  your  harlequin  banner  !  " 

They  were  grave  enough  now,  these  reckless  men, 
these  light  women.  Were  they  all  mad,  as  he  had 
said?  It  was  a  thought  to  sober  the  gayest. 

Another  hush  fell,  and  they  heard  another  sound, 
the  sound  of  weeping;  they  saw  another  figure,  that 
of  the  Man  of  Sorrows. 

"  You  know,  and  I  know,"  rang  out  the  voice  of  the 
speaker,  "  Life  is  not  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at,  it  is 
a  thing  for  tears  !  The  One  Man  who  saw  it  clearly, 
felt  it  deeply,  endured  it  to  the  uttermost,  did  not 
laugh.  He  wept!  " 

The  silken  bags  ran  over  that  day.  The  congrega 
tion  must  have  a  vent  for  their  surcharged  sensibili 
ties  ;  they  found  it  in  their  pockets. 


218         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Winslow's  got  a  big  contract  if  he's  going  to  root 
out  that  fellow,"  said  Judge  Lansing  to  Shed  Well- 
man  as  they  left  the  church. 

"  I  ain't  been  so  tore  up  since  I  was  born !  "  Shed 
returned  complacently.  He  was  not  the  only  one  who 
had  had  his  money's  worth  of  searching,  upheaving 
emotion. 

"  There  ain't  been  nobody  in  this  town  that  could 
work  on  you  like  that!  "  they  declared. 

This  was  true.  Vaughan  knew  it  was  true.  He 
knew  what  he  had  done  and  that  it  was  what  he  meant 
to  do.  He  smiled  to  himself  as  he  thought  of  his 
carefully  elaborated  arguments  for  the  existence  of 
God.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  actor,  the  dramatic  ap 
peal  which  won. 

But  was  that  the  best,  the  only  way?  Would  not 
the  apostles  of  old  have  sought  rather  to  convince  and 
convert  and  reform  these  sinners,  and  not  have  tried 
so  hard  to  win  them?  Was  not  the  lack  in  him  the 
very  lack  he  found  in  them?  Had  it  not  been,  just 
what  Barker  had  advertised,  a  sermon  to  fools  by  a 
fool? 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    DEBATE 

A?TER  all,  it  was  Ellen  who  saved  herself,  or 
rather  that  quality  in  her  which  will  save  any 
true  woman  if  allowed  to  have  its  way — the 
sensitive,  protective  instinct  which  sits  at  the  door  of 
the  too-generous  heart,  prepared  to  avenge  any  slight 
put  upon  it. 

Winslow  had  not  aroused  this  instinct  in  Ellen 
until  his  chagrin  made  him  careless.  From  the  time 
when  he  found  her  standing  in  the  sunshine  at  the 
Macys'  gate,  her  wide,  innocent  blue  eyes  gazing  won- 
deringly  at  the  strange  new  world  in  which  she  found 
herself,  his  attitude  towards  her  had  been  that  of  the 
kind,  older  friend,  the  teacher,  the  guide.  It  was 
Ellen's  own  faith  in  him,  her  belief  that  he  was  the 
greatest  as  well  as  the  most  delightful  of  men  which 
betrayed  him  into  tenderer  relations.  Her  readiness 
to  obey  him,  her  willingness  to  keep  his  visits  a  secret 
from  her  family,  touched  Winslow.  He  grew  really 
fond  of  the  girl. 

Katharine's  coldness  gave  him  an  excuse,  if  he 
needed  one.  "  It  is  all  her  fault,"  he  told  himself, 
and  kept  on,  buying  trinkets  for  the  child,  telling  her 

219 


220        THE    SAGE    BRUSH   PARSON 

stories,  listening  to  her  shrewd,  quaint  comments  on 
the  lives  of  those  about  her.  There  was  not  a  week 
when  he  did  not  spend  at  least  two  evenings  at  the 
Macj  cottage.  Mother  Macy  went  to  bed  early.  A 
pound  of  tea  now  and  then  quieted  her  scruples. 
Ellen  was  free  to  do  as  she  pleased. 

All  at  once  the  visits  stopped.  Convinced  that  he 
was  watched,  Winslow  avoided  the  cottage.  He  would 
not  risk  a  message.  When  it  should  be  safe  for  him 
to  see  Ellen  again  he  would  explain  everything.  Mean 
while  he  trusted  to  her  affection  and  to  her  confidence 
in  him  to  restrain  whatever  impatience  she  might  feel. 
And  Ellen  watched,  night  after  night,  setting  the 
lamp  in  the  window,  her  signal  that  the  coast  was 
clear,  and  listening  to  every  sound,  her  pulse-beats 
quickening  at  the  approach  of  footsteps,  then  sink 
ing  to  the  languor  of  despair  as  the  steps  went  by. 

Night  after  night  she  removed  the  lamp,  drew  the 
curtain  and  crept  away  to  bed,  to  lie  palpitating  in 
the  darkness,  wondering  what  she  had  done  or  said,  to 
offend,  wondering  if  he  wrere  hurt  or  ill.  Then  she 
began  to  hear,  from  Jerry  and  the  rest,  of  the  club 
which  Winslow  had  started  and  which  many  of  the 
young  Irishmen  in  town  had  been  asked  to  join. 

"  I've  no  use  for  him,"  said  Jerry.  "  But  I'll  jine, 
if  for  no  more  than  to  watch  him.  He'll  bear  watch- 
in'.  He's  a  fox,  that  wan." 

Was  Jerry  right?  She  listened  to  whatever  was 
said  of  Winslow;  and  his  name  was  in  every  mouth, 


THE    DEBATE 


now-a-days.  She  put  this  and  that  together.  Mother 
Macy  did  not  help  matters  :  she  resented  Ellen's 
moods  and  missed  her  pound  of  tea. 

At  last,  one  night,  the  truant  appeared,  a  little 
flushed,  a  little  embarrassed,  yet  quite  confident  that 
he  could  explain  away  any  unpleasantness  created  by 
his  absence.  The  Ellen  who  met  him  was  a  very  dif 
ferent  Ellen  from  the  one  he  bade  good-by,  that 
chilly  night  in  March,  when  he  left  Haverford  and 
ran  back  to  "  take  out  the  taste  "  of  the  uncomfor 
table  call  on  the  Chisholms  and  Sinclairs. 

"  There's  one  place  in  town  where  I'm  welcome,"  he 
had  said  to  himself.  "  I'll  go  there." 

Pie  had  not  been  to  see  her  since,  and  it  was  now  the 
beginning  of  May.  He  had  not  felt  safe  till  now. 
But  it  had  been  a  long  time  to  wait,  saying  nothing. 
He  did  not  blame  her  for  being  cold  as  ice  and 
haughty  as  a  queen.  He  liked  her  all  the  better  for 
it.  The  colder  she  became,  the  warmer  he,  and  from 
carefully  concocted  excuses  floundered  into  some 
thing  approaching  truth.  He  told  her  of  the  scene 
at  the  church,  not  as  it  was,  but  as  she  could  hear  it, 
told  of  Vaughan's  attack  upon  him,  and  that  he  had 
been  forced,  against  his  will,  to  stay  away. 

She  knit  her  pretty  brows.  Why,  why  all  this 
pother?  Was  it  because  she  was  a  working  girl  and 
lie  a  gentleman?  But  in  America  that  did  not 
matter.  She  had  been  in  the  States  long  enough  to 
learn  this. 


222         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Winslow  was  at  his  wits'  end  how  to  answer.  He 
blustered  about  Vaughan,  uttered  vague  threats.  She 
evidently  did  not  believe  them.  "  Oh,  I  mean  what  I 
say,"  he  answered  her.  "  I've  got  things  fixed  for 
to-morrow  night.  There's  to  be  a  debate  at  the 
church.  He's  to  take  part.  England  against 
Ireland." 

"England  against  Ireland?"  she  repeated.  He 
felt  that  he  had  said  too  much.  "  I'll  tell  you  about 
it  when  I  come  Saturday  night,"  he  said  hurriedly. 
"  Don't  say  a  word  to  anyone !  Good-night,  little 
dear !  What — not  a  single  kiss !  I'll  make  .the 
Parson  pay  for  robbing  me." 

She  watched  him  narrowly,  encouraging  the  dis 
trust  of  him  that  she  somehow  felt  might  cure  the 
heartache  which  lingered  in  her  yet. 

"  I'll  be  back  Saturday  night,"  he  promised,  "  and 
I'll  bring  you  something  nice." 

Two  months  ago,  six  weeks,  a  month,  this  might 
have  served,  but  not  now.  She  went  to  bed  and  slept 
soundly.  The  next  afternoon  she  claimed  her  half-day 
out,  to  Mother  Macy's  astonishment — it  was  the 
first  Thursday  afternoon  Ellen  had  cared  to  take — 
and  went  to  see  her  sister,  Mary  Flynn.  Nora  Flynn, 
Mike's  sister,  was  there,  from  the  big  house  on  the  hill, 
and  so  were  one  or  two  other  girls ;  and  Mary  had  the 
teapot  on. 

Mike  Flynn's  had  come  to  be  a  meeting  place  for  the 
working  girls.  They  brought  thither  their  disap- 


THE    DEBATE 


pointments  and  perplexities,  and  if  Mary  could  not 
decide  what  should  be  done,  there  was  Mike  to  refer 
to,  or  Jerry. 

Mary  was  usually  equal  to  the  emergency.  She 
was  one  of  the  small,  thin,  brown  women  who  never 
flag  or  tire,  as  full  of  the  maternal  instinct  as  a  hen- 
sparrow,  and  capable  of  exercising  it  on  the  multitude 
who  appealed  to  her  without  in  the  least  stinting  her 
own  brood.  She  held  Tommy  on  her  lap,  now,  Maggie 
was  nestling  against  her  skirts,  and  Katie  hung  over 
the  back  of  her  chair,  while  she  told  Nora  what  to  do 
for  her  cold  and  assured  Bridget  Connor  there  were 
plenty  of  places  as  good  as  the  one  she  had  lost.  She 
cried  out  in  delight  to  see  Ellen,  and  tumbled  the  chil 
dren  into  each  other's  laps  as  she  sprang  up  to  seize 
and  embrace  her. 

Jerry  came  in  a  few  minutes  later,  and  there  was  a 
flutter  among  those  of  the  girls  who  were  not  related 
to  him.  They  asked  him  how  he  could  spare  time 
from  his  clubs  to  be  calling  around?  And  when  was 
he  going  to  speak  in  public? 

"  Sure,   I   may   take   a   hand   to-night,"   returned 

Jerry.     "  'Tis  a  free-for-all  go-as-you-please.     5Tis 

to  be  at  the  Methody  church,  so  many  are  cominV 

*"  What  is  it  ye're  speakin'  on,  Jerry  ?  "  inquired 

his  sister-in-law. 

"  Has  England  anny  right  to  suppress  revolu 
tionists  ?  "  replied  Jerry  glibly.  "  An'  God  pity  the 
man  who  says  she  has !  " 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  What  would  they  do  to  him  ?  "  inquired  Ellen  with 
a  frightened  look. 

"  Shoot  him,  belike,"  returned  Jerry  ;  "  who'd  be 
such  a  fool?  " 

"  But  don't  they  have  to  take  sides  ?  "  asked  Nora. 

"What  sides  is  they  to  that?"  retorted  Jerry. 
"  There's  but  one  side  to  that  question." 

Ellen  crossed  the  kitchen  and  took  a  seat  by  Nora's 
side.  "  Were  you  goin'  home,  soon  ?  "  she  whispered. 
"  If  you  are,  I'll  walk  along." 

The  two  girls  went  out  together.  "  What's 
troublin'  ye,  Ellen?  "  asked  Nora  as  they  turned  into 
the  street. 

"Is  your  Mr.  Vaughan  English?"  asked  Ellen. 

"If  he  is,  he's  a  rale  gentleman,"  answered  Nora. 
"  Ye'd  say  so,  yourself,  if  you  knew  him." 

"  I  was  thinkin',"  said  Ellen  slowly,  "  if  he's  Eng 
lish,  he'd  —  he'd  speak  on  the  other  side,  an'  —  there'd 
be  trouble." 

Nora  stopped  short.  She  was  in  the  secret  with 
Jerry  and  Mary  Flynn  of  Winslow's  attentions  to 
Ellen,  but  had  promised  not  to  say  a  word.  Yet  here 
was  Ellen  bursting  with  news,  obtained  from  Winslow, 
Nora  was  sure. 

"  'Twould  be  a  sad  day  for  the  town  if  annythijig 
happened  him,"  she  said  gravely.  "  'Tis  that  kind 
he  is  to  the  poor  and  the  sick,  an'  our  little  gells  at  the 
house  would  be  breakin'  their  hearts." 

Ellen  did  not  speak.     She  was  far  from  ready  to 


THE    DEBATE  225 

betray  her  lover,  neither  would  she  have  Nora's  friend 
come  to  any  hurt. 

"  If  ye're  seein'  him  before  the  night,  ye  might 
tell  him  not  to  be  speakin',"  she  said  at  last  hurriedly. 
"  I'm  not  say  in'  that  I  know  anything,  but  if  I's  him, 
I  wouldn't  be  speakin';"  and  before  Nora  could  stop 
her  she  was  running  back  to  the  Macy  cottage  as 
hard  as  she  could  run. 

Nora  went  straight  to  her  mistress  and  laid  the 
whole  story  before  her. 

Katharine  was  greatly  disturbed.  It  was  so  late, 
very  nearly  six  o'clock!  Dinner  would  be  served  in 
a  few  minutes.  The  club  met  at  seven.  There  would 
be  no  time  to  send  a  note.  What  could  she  say  in  it  ? 
Impulse  prompted  her  to  go  to  the  meeting  in  person 
and  ward  off  by  her  actual  presence  any  danger  that 
might  threaten.  Why  was  not  this,  after  all,  the 
best  plan?  Ladies  were  invited.  Mrs.  Wellman  had 
told  her  she  went  once,  and  the  Morgans  had  been. 
The  change  of  the  place  of  meeting  from  the  school- 
house  to  the  church  had  been  made  in  order  to  ac 
commodate  the  increase  in  numbers. 

"  Arthur,"  she  said  to  her  brother,  as  they  went 
in  to  dinner,  "  have  you  any  engagement  this 
evening?  " 

"  Only  the  Debating  Club,  which  I  never  attend,  as 
you  know,"  he  answered,  smiling. 

"  I  want  you  to  go,  to-night,"  she  said  lightly, 
"  and  take  me." 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  You,  Kitty  ?  "  he  exclaimed  ;  and  Mabel  and  Miss 
Emmeline  echoed  "You?"  Ned  Wilkins  laughed, 
more  at  them  than  at  her. 

"  Winslow  would  be  flattered  by  your  interest," 
said  Arthur,  elaborately  unfolding  his  napkin. 

Katharine  caught  at  the  suggestion.  "  I'm  afraid 
he  thinks  we  haven't  sympathized  with  his  efforts  to 
elevate  the  masses,"  she  said  diplomatically. 

"  After  those  horrid  articles  in  the  Sentinel!  "  broke 
in  Mabel.  "  Who  could  sympathize  with  him  !  " 

"  He's  really  done  good  work  in  this  club,  though," 
interposed  Wilkins.  "  I'm  not  an  admirer  of  Wins- 
low,  but  I  must  own  he's  brought  out  some  of  the 
young  fellows  amazingly." 

"  If  you  really  want  to  go  -  "  began  Arthur  in 
dulgently. 

"  I  do,  very  much,"  his  sister  finished    promptly. 

It  ended  in  everyone's  going.  The  night  was  so 
fair  and  so  full  of  stars,  they  gave  that  as  a  reason. 
They  did  not  realize,  themselves,  how  they  had  caught 
the  contagion  of  Katharine's  desire. 

Vaughan,  standing  in  his  study  door,  breathing  the 
same  sweet  air,  looking  at  the  same  stars,  was  re 
minded  of  the  night  of  his  arrival  at  Galena,  just  a 
year  ago.  How  far  he  had  traveled  from  the  doubts 
and  apprehensions  of  that  night!  How  easily  now 
he  met  and  overcame  difficulties  !  There  was  the  De 
bating  Club,  for  instance.  Winslow  himself  had  pro 
posed  that  the  time  of  its  meeting  be  changed  from 


THE    DEBATE 


Thursday  to  Wednesday  night,  for  the  sake  of  the 
prayer-meeting.  He  had  begged  the  Methodist  to 
take  part  and  had  been  evidently  touched  and  flattered 
by  the  offer  of  the  church  as  a  meeting-place.  In 
many  ways  he  had  shown  his  friendliness.  There  was 
reason  for  believing  that  his  visits  to  the  Macy  cot 
tage  had  ceased. 

Just  then  a  boy  ran  stumbling  up  the  walk.  "  Let 
ter  for  ye,  Parson  !  "  he  called  and  thrust  a  note  into 
Vaughan's  hand.  He  read  it  hurriedly  under  the 
lamp.  It  was  from  Winslow.  He  wrote  that  Judge 
Lansing  had  been  called  out  of  town.  Was  there  any 
one  else  whom  Vaughan  would  like  to  have  take  the 
negative  with  him? 

Negative  of  what?  Winslow  had  not  yet  sent 
around  the  question.  It  was  too  late  now  to  prepare 
a  set  speech.  The  debater  must  trust  to  the  inspira 
tion  of  the  moment,  and  to  the  ability,  not  rare  in  his 
profession,  to  think  on  his  feet  and  talk  against 
time.  He  drew  in  half  a  dozen  last,  long  breaths  of 
the  delicious  night  air  and  turned  towards  the 
church. 

Members  of  the  club  and  their  guests  were  already 
arriving.  They  came  in  a  steady  stream,  pouring 
into  the  room,  men  and  women,  cowboys,  miners  with 
their  wives.  It  was  to  be  an  unusual  occasion.  He 
wondered  what  the  question  could  be. 

There  were  the  people  from  Richmond  Hill  !  Ned 
Wilkins  led  the  party,  carrying  a  chair  in  each  hand 


228         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

high  above  their  heads.  Mrs.  Chisholm  followed  him, 
in  a  trim,  gray  walking  suit ;  then  came  Mrs.  Sinclair, 
clinging  to  her  husband's  arm ;  then  Miss  Emmelines 
muffled  in  a  long  cloak ;  last  of  all,  Haverford. 

Vaughan  met  them  and  made  them  welcome.  Wins- 
low,  hurrying  in  at  that  moment,  did  the  same.  He 
turned  to  Vaughan.  "  Sorry  Lansing's  given  out," 
he  said  abruptly.  "  I  suppose  you'd  rather  take  his 
place  than  have  a  substitute,  now  ?  " 

"  I  might,  if  I  knew  what  I  was  to  speak  on,"  re 
turned  Vaughan  with  a  shrug. 

"  What,  didn't  I  tell  you?  A  thousand  pardons  !  " 
cried  Winslow.  "  It's  that  matter  of  controlling 
revolutionists,  you  know.  Oh,  I  forgot  you  were  not 
at  the  last  meeting.  Wait — I'll  give  the  question  from 
the  chair." 

The  gavel  fell.  The  meeting  came  to  order.  The 
minutes  were  read.  At  last,  the  question  for  debate 
was  stated.  "  Resolved :  Should  the  countries  of 
Europe  present  to  this  government  a  request  to  unite 
with  them  in  suppressing  revolution,  such  a  proposi 
tion  should  be  met  with  scorn." 

Bob  Gordon,  the  first  speaker  for  the  affirmative, 
opened  the  debate.  He  was  a  miner,  a  big  broad- 
shouldered  Scot,  with  a  shock  of  yellow  hair  that  emu 
lated  the  metal  in  which  he  worked.  He  was  a  man 
of  ability,  and  had  improved  whatever  opportunity 
had  come  his  way  to  read  and  study.  The  other 
miners  were  proud  of  him  and  evinced  the  fact  by  a 


THE    DEBATE 


tremendous  handclapping  as  he  arose.  Bob  showed 
his  big  white  teeth  in  an  appreciative  grin,  bowed 
low  to  the  chairman  and  to  the  audience,  and  entered 
without  hesitation  upon  his  carefully  prepared  sen 
tences. 

He  had  not  proceeded  far  before  it  was  apparent 
to  the  dullest  among  his  listeners  that  the  question  had 
undergone  a  transformation  in  his  hands.  It  was  not 
what  the  United  States  would^or  would  not  do,  or 
what  stand  the  other  European  countries  would 
take  —  save  England.  England,  English  policy, 
English  aggression,  English  tyranny  were  being 
arraigned,  and  at  every  disparaging  allusion  to  the 
feared  and  hated  country,  the  young  Irishmen,  who 
seemed  to  constitute  the  majority  of  the  audience, 
applauded  vigorously. 

At  the  end  of  the  fifteen  minutes  allotted  to  Gor 
don,  Winslow's  gavel  fell,  but  not  a  word  did  the  pre 
siding  officer  utter  on  the  liberties  which  had  been 
taken  with  the  question. 

There  was  an  expression  on  Vaughan's  face  as  he 
came  to  his  feet  which  none  of  that  company  had  seen 
there  before.  He  believed  that  into  this  plot,  which 
he  now  at  last  discerned,  had  entered  nearly  every  one 
of  those  watchful,  smiling  men  and  women  before  him. 
It  had  been  all  arranged.  As  an  Englishman  he  had 
been  selected  to  receive  the  insults  and  indignities  these 
people  were  only  too  ready  to  offer  to  the  mother 
country.  The  question  under  debate  had  nothing 


230         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

whatever  to  do  with  the  case;  anything  would  serve, 
so  that  they  had  an  opportunity  to  tease  and  annoy 
him. 

Somewhat  of  the  revolt  and  the  resistance  which 
entered  into  him  when  he  sparred  with  Poole  in  the 
rear  room  of  Poole  and  Pilcher's  vibrated  in  his 
voice  as  he  took  up  the  challenge  Bob  Gordon  flung 
down.  He  bowed  to  the  chairman  and  the  audience, 
let  his  gaze  wander  ever  the  rows  of  young  Irishmen 
against  the  wall,  over  the  ranks  of  men  and  women, 
jniners  and  cowboys,  then  down  to  the  chairs  where  sat 
the  people  from  Richmond  Hill.  Here  one  pair  of 
keen,  earnest  gray  eyes  held  his  own  for  an  instant, 
with  an  expression  of  indignant  sympathy  and  reso 
lute  good-will ;  the  anger  which  had  filled  him  softened 
and  a  humorous  view  of  the  situation  succeeded,  for 
a  moment,  the  bitter  one. 

He  told  of  Judge  Lansing's  illness,  asked  and  re 
ceived  permission  to  occupy  not  only  his  own  fifteen 
minutes,  but  the  time  allotted  to  the  Judge,  then 
briefly  reviewed  the  speech  made  by  Gordon,  showing 
how  the  question  had  been  tampered  with,  but  accept 
ing  it  as  it  had  been  interpreted.  When  he  took  his 
seat  the  gray  eyes  thanked  him  for  his  temperance 
and  self-control.  There  was  a  mild  outbreak  of  re 
spectful  applause  led  by  sundry  determined  ex 
plosions  from  the  corner  where  Dick  and  Jo  sat. 

Vaughan  glanced  thither,  beckoned  Dick  to  him 
and  gave  him  a  whispered  direction,  Dick  nodded  and 


THE    DEBATE  231 

presently  brought  half  a  dozen  books  from  the  study ; 
these  Vaughan  hastily  glanced  through  and  set 
aside. 

Penrose  had  the  half-hour  speech.  By  this  time, 
riot  only  those  among  the  company  who  had  been  made 
aware  beforehand  of  the  trick  to  be  played  upon  the 
parson,  but  everyone  else  in  the  church  comprehended 
clearly  what  sort  of  a  tournament  the  debate  had  be 
come.  The  tail  of  the  British  Lion  was  to  be  twisted. 
They  were  to  have  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  hearing 
him  roar. 

Penrose  had  brought  to  the  meeting,  as  had  Gordon, 
all  the  arguments  that  he  could  possibly  use,  but,  un 
like  the  miner,  he  had  had  someone  to  show  him  how  to 
use  them. 

Whereas  Bob  came  out  boldly  and  dealt  sledge 
hammer  blows,  right  and  left,  Penrose,  armed  with 
Winslow's  neat  rapier,  made  little,  quick,  stinging 
thrusts. 

When  he  spoke  of  George  the  Third  and  the 
American  colonies,  it  was  in  a  manner  to  elicit  yelps 
and  howls  of  patriotism.  When  he  described  the  Se 
poys  of  India  blown  from  the  cannon's  mouth,  mur 
murs  of  horror  could  be  heard.  By  the  time  he  came 
to  Ireland  he  was  stopped  at  the  end  of  every  sentence, 
sometimes  in  the  middle  of  it,  while  the  more  out 
spoken  among  the  audience  expressed  their  own 
opinions  on  the  subject. 

As  he  ceased  and  Vaughan  arose  there  was  an  un- 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


friendly  silence  —  then  someone  hissed.  Someone  else 
called  "  Shame  !  " 

The  speaker  smiled  mockingly.  "  How  he  despises 
us  !  "  thought  Katharine.  An  impatient  scuffling  of 
feet  followed,  then  came  another  hiss.  Winslow  called 
for  order. 

The  hiss  was  heard  again. 

"Why  do  you  hiss  ?  "  inquired  Vaughan  coolly.  "  It 
cannot  be  the  question.  That  is,  as  I  understand  it, 
of  your  own  choosing.  I'm  sure  I  shouldn't  have 
chosen  it  myself  —  a  foolish  question  and  misleading, 
as  both  of  my  opponents  have  shown. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  myself  whom  you  are  hissing?  "  He 
paused,  reflectively,  and  scanned  the  ranks  against  the 
wall.  "  Yet  the  volume  of  sound  seems  to  come  from 
those  who  are  of  the  same  race  as  I  —  'Tis  true!  I 
have  Irish  blood  in  my  veins  !  "  They  hesitated, 
hardly  knowing  how  to  take  him,  and  he  continued,  in 
a  loud  voice,  "  But  owing  and  owning  allegiance  to 
England,  God  bless  her!  " 

A  single  impetuous  handclap  responded. 

"  My  opponent,"  went  on  the  speaker  —  how 
tender  his  voice  was,  an  Irish  voice,  of  course  —  why 
had  they  not  thought  of  it  before  ?  —  "  has  elo 
quently  portrayed  the  sufferings  of  Ireland,  but  —  I 
beg  the  honorable  gentleman's  pardon  —  his  eloquence 
lacks  something.  How  can  he  adequately  portray  the 
sufferings  of  that  sad  country  when  he  has  never  felt 
her  charm?  Can  he  shut  his  eyes  and  see  the  shores 


THE    DEBATE  233 

of  Killarney  when  the  morning  sun  gilds  the  rugged 
slopes  of  Eagle  Mountain? — God  never  made  a 
scene  more  fair!  Can  he  in  his  dreams  watch  the 
McGillicuddy  Reeks  fade  into  the  sunset  glow?  Can 
he  in  a  vision  picture  himself  walking  down  the  vale 
of  Avoca?  'Tis  the  Garden  of  Eden,  gentlemen, 
and  better  than  the  first,  since  from  it  holy  Saint 
Patrick  banished  the  Snake ! " 

Shouts  of  delight  went  up  from  the  ranks  against 
the  wall.  Jerry  Flynn  stood  on  tiptoe  and  waved  his 
arms  above  his  head.  He  had  crouched  out  of  sight 
till  now. 

Penrose  and  Winslow  might  talk  about  the  Irish. 
This  was  Irish.  Only  an  Irishman  would  have  said  it 
like  that,  with  a  little  surprise  at  the  end,  the  twist 
into  a  laugh. 

"  'Tis  a  land  where  the  heart  rules  the  head,"  the 
speaker  continued.  "  But  such  a  heart  that  God 
himself  forgives  its  mistakes  and  says  plainly  '  try 
again  ' ! 

"  Thanks  be  to  His  mercy,  the  mistake  of  the  revo 
lutionist  is  being  superseded  by  the  discretion  of  the 
reformer !  'Tis  the  revolutionist  that  should  be  sup 
pressed,  not  the  reformer.  I  will  try  to  tell  you  why, 
if  you  will  be  patient  for  a  moment. 

"  What  are  revolutionists  ?  "  he  pursued  thought 
fully,  as  if  searching  his  own  mind  for  an  answer  to 
the  question.  "  They're  the  men  with  the  dirk  and 
the  bomb — wait,  wait,"  for  the  restless  among 


234         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  audience  began  again  to  stir  and  mutter.  "  What 
are  reformers?  They're  the  men  with  the  tongue 
and  the  book,  with  the  unsheathed  sword,  the  unaf- 
frighted  front.  Aye,  gentlemen,  suppress  the  revo 
lutionists  and  let  the  reformers  do  your  work. 
They're  the  true  lovers  of  Ireland,  the  faithful  sons. 
They  will  obtain  for  Ireland  what  she  wants,  even 
while  they're  serving  England !  " 

He  paused  to  let  them  respond,  as  they  did,  not 
vociferously,  but  with  a  heartiness  which  showed  their 
appreciation  of  what  had  been  said. 

"  You  can't  separate  the  two  countries,  gentlemen," 
he  said  earnestly.  "  They  are  not  two,  but  one. 
Cut  England,  and  Ireland  bleeds.  Break  a  bone  of 
Ireland,  and  England  limps.  Stint  either,  and  the 
other  goes  hungry. 

"  And  there's  no  high  and  low,  this  one  on  top  and 
the  other  underneath,  even  in  England — unless  it 
be  perhaps  Ireland  a  little  to  the  good."  They 
laughed. 

"  'Tis  so,"  he  insisted.     .     .     . 

"  Who's  leading  England's  armies  to-day  ?  An 
Irishman,  Wolseley. 

"  Who  was  the  greatest  soldier  she  ever  had?  An 
Irishman,  Wellington. 

"  Who  was  her  greatest  orator?  An  Irishman, 
Burke. 

"  Time  would  fail  me  to  tell  of  the  Irishmen  who 
have  shaped  her  language  and  formulated  her 


THE    DEBATE  235 

thought,  of  Sheridan  and  Goldsmith,  of  Swift  and 
Sir  Richard  Steele. 

"  Gentlemen,  don't  forget  you  have  a  duty  to  Eng 
land  as  well  as  to  the  land  that  gave  you  birth." 

The  gray  eyes  brimmed  over  with  light  and 
laughter,  gazing  up  at  him. 

"  Why,  gentlemen,  I  don't  know  what  England 
would  do  if  half  the  foremost  Englishmen  of  to-day 
weren't  Irishmen!"  he  broke  out,  impelled  by  that 
glance. 

Now  they  shouted  till  the  windows  rattled.  He 
could  say  anything  he  pleased  after  that,  and  he  said 
many  things  at  which  he  himself  wondered  after 
wards,  ending  with  a  call  for  three  cheers  for  Eng 
land  and  the  English  Irishmen.  They  were  given 
with  a  will  and  then  the  vote  was  taken.  The  negative 
had  it,  had  everything ;  their  sympathy,  their  admira 
tion,  their  good-will.  They  crowded  up  to  congratu 
late  him,  exchanging  jokes  as  they  jostled  one 
another. 

He  gave  the  Richmond  Hill  people  the  first  chance, 
turning  immediately  to  Katharine.  "  What  were  you 
saying?  "  he  asked,  although  she  had  not  spoken. 

"  It  was  delicious,"  she  murmured.  "  How  much 
of  it  was  true?  " 

"  All  that  about  the  great  men,"  he  answered  mis 
chievously.  "  Didn't  you  see  me  look  up  their 
ancestry?  " 

"  But  you — are  you  an  Irishman?  " 


236         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  I  might  be,  if  I'm  not."  His  eyes  danced.  He 
had  never  seemed  so  accessible,  so  near.  She  had 
never  taken  such  delight  in  him.  To  cover  it,  she 
turned  to  Winslow  and  congratulated  him  on  the 
successful  development  of  the  club. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

THE     BANQUET     AT     RUBY     HILL 

THE  editor  of  a  daily  paper  ought  to 
know  which  way  the  cat  is  going  to  jump," 
remarked  Penrose  sadly  to  himself,  as  he 
walked  home  after  the  debate.  "  But  whoever  could 
prognosticate — prognosticate's  a  good  word — that 
things  would  turn  out  as  they  did ! " 

He  tore  up  the  report  of  the  evening's  meeting 
which  had  been  awaiting  the  actual  event  for  verifica 
tion,  and  wrote  another  in  an  entirely  different  veins 
eulogizing  Vaughan  and  the  Irish  and  giving  a  hu 
morous  account  of  his  own  defeat. 

A  few  days  later  the  cat  jumped  again,  in  the 
same  direction  and  farther.  He  was  waited  on  by  a 
company  of  Hibernians,  who  informed  him  they  were 
going  to  give  Vaughan  a  banquet  out  at  Ruby  Hill. 
They  wished  him  to  be  present  and  "  to  write  the 
thing  up." 

This  was  something  which  Penrose  could  not  af 
ford  to  lose.  Ricker  would  be  there  and  would  say 
grace;  that  alone  would  be  worth  the  journey.  Other 
Cornishmen  besides  Ricker  and  Penrose  were  invited, 
to  draw  the  fire  of  the  Irish.  It  would  be  a  great 

237 


238         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

occasion.  Penrose  equipped  himself  with  writing- 
pad  and  pencil  and  went  early  to  "  take  it  all 
in." 

The  tables,  long  boards  laid  on  trestles,  were  laid 
in  the  large  hall  owned  by  the  Miners'  Union.  The 
banqueters  were  already  in  their  places  when  Penrose 
entered.  Ricker  and  Vaughan  were  at  the  heads  of 
the  two  long  tables.  The  Irishmen  were  out  in  full 
force,  "  the  old  residents "  dressed  in  American 
"  store  clothes,"  the  "  green  "  new  arrivals  arrayed  in 
picturesque  waistcoats  and  trousers  of  varied  color 
and  extravagant  pattern,  brought  from  the  south  and 
west  of  Ireland.  Cornish  homespun  played  a  similar 
part  in  distinguishing  newcomers  among  the  Cornish 
miners,  who  were  present  in  large  numbers. 

The  tables  were  full.  Everyone  was  in  the  best  of 
humor,  taking  hard  rubs  and  giving  them  with  equal 
good-nature.  When  Penrose  had  been  directed  to  his 
seat  and  one  or  two  other  late  comers  had  drifted  into 
theirs,  Ricker  stood  up  and  rapped  on  the  table  with 
the  handle  of  his  knife.  There  was  instant  silence. 
"  Ricker's  going  to  say  grace.  This'll  put  on  the 
cap  sheaf,"  his  next  neighbor  whispered  to  Penrose. 

Ricker  ran  his  eye  over  the  table.  There  were  all 
sorts  of  viands  to  offset  the  absence  of  liquors  pro 
scribed  by  himself  and  Vaughan  alike;  but,  as  if  in 
ironic  disregard  of  his  own  well-known  vegetarian 
tendencies,  someone  had  set  before  him  on  a  huge 
platter  a  sucking  pig,  roasted  whole,  with  an  apple 


THE    BANQUET    AT    RUBY    HILL    239 

in  his  mouth.  Ricker  saw  nothing  else.  He  gave 
the  pig  a  despairing  glance,  rolled  his  blue  eyes 
piously  heavenward,  clasped  his  hands  and  began : 

"  O  Lord,  if  Thou  canst  bless  under  the  dispensa 
tion  of  the  New,  that  which  Thou  didst  curse  under 
the  dispensation  of  the  Old,  if  Thy  blessing  can  rest 
upon  that  into  which,  when  Thou  wast  upon  earth, 
Thou  didst  permit  the  devils  to  enter,  then  do  Thou 
bless  this  roast-pig ;  "  he  paused,  and  added  hurriedly, 
"  and  the  other  foods  provided  for  us  at  this  time. 
Amen." 

He  sat  down  amid  a  hum  of  approval  which,  undc-r 
purely  secular  conditions  would  have  exploded  into 
handclappings  and  cheers,  and,  leaning  over  the 
table,  called  out,  "  Brother  Tregoning,  I'll  thank  yer 
for  that  pie !  " 

Cake,  fruit,  nuts  were  added  to  the  pie  by  those 
who  sat  near,  they,  meanwhile,  bearing  off  in  triumph 
the  pig;  and  the  merriment  began,  one  table  vying 
with  the  other  in  anecdote  and  witticism,  each 
greeted  by  roars  of  delight. 

In  the  midst  of  it  Vaughan  became  aware  that 
someone  was  standing  in  the  open  doorway  regarding 
him  with  fixed,  earnest  gaze.  He  looked  up  and  saw 
Frank  Henley. 

With  sudden  premonition  of  impending  ill, 
Vaughan  sprang  to  his  side. 

Frank  had  a  black-bordered  envelope  in  his  hand. 
He  gave  it  to  Vaughan  without  a  word.  It  was  from 


240        THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  aged  pastor  at  home,  who  had  written  on  it  in  his 
cramped  old  hand  "With  speed." 

Vaughan  broke  the  seal  and  read.  Frank  watched 
the  color  leave  his  face.  Down  one  page,  across  an 
other,  darted  his  troubled  glance.  He  read  to  the 
end,  then  refolded  the  sheet  with  trembling  fingers. 

"  Anyone  dead  ?  "  inquired  Frank  briefly. 

Vaughan  bowed,  unable  to  speak. 

"  Any  of  your  folks  ?  " 

"  Father — and  Mother,  too!  "  was  the  answer, 
in  a  low,  anguish-stricken  voice. 

Frank  turned  towards  the  tables  where  the  f casters 
sat.  They  had  returned,  after  the  imperceptible 
pause,  to  the  roast-pig  and  the  pies  and  cakes,  and 
the  stories  and  songs,,  Wherever  the  Parson  went, 
they  had  said,  there  was  always  somebody  looking  for 
him. 

"  I'll  tell  Ricker  and  he  can  tell  them,"  said  Frank. 
"  Go  and  get  ready  and  we'll  go  back  to  town.  I 
came  down  on  Black  Birdie.  You  can  take  her  and 
I'll  get  another  horse." 

He  made  his  way  to  the  head  of  the  table  where 
Ricker  sat  and  briefly  made  known  to  him  the  nature 
of  the  message  he  had  brought. 

Intense  sympathy  manifested  itself  in  the  Cornish- 
man's  rough,  kindly  face  and  in  his  manner,  as  he  laid 
his  big  hands  on  the  table  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  My  friends,"  he  called  to  the  banqueters.  "  Wait 
a  minute !  "  He  raised  his  hand. 


THE    BANQUET    AT    RUBY    HILL 


"  Sorrow  lias  come  to  our  Brother  Vaughan!  His 
father  and  his  mother  have  both  gone  hence  —  and 
have  left  him  desolate!  —  Let  us  pray  !  " 

With  bowed  heads  they  sat  among  their  viands, 
while  Ricker  poured  out  his  heart  in  an  appeal  for 
help  for  Vaughan  and  a  lesson  for  themselves. 

Clement  and  Frank  heard  him  through,  then  rode 
slowly  away  in  silence,  as  men  ride  whose  hearts  ache 
together. 

The  moon  was  full.  In  its  light  the  valley  was  a 
lake  of  silver,  on  whose  shores  the  hills  loomed  black 
in  shadow. 

Equally  bright,  equally  black,  appeared  life's 
contrasts  to  the  young  preacher.  There  was  no  re 
conciling  them,  no  taking  one  to  offset  the  other. 
Now  in  the  light,  now  in  the  darkness,  he  must  go  on 
and  on,  to  the  end  of  the  journey. 

He  drew  rein  and  turned  to  his  companion.  "  You 
see,"  he  said  desperately,  "there'll  be  no  one  now  to  — 
patch  up  things  —  with  Delia.  Mother  was  going  to 
try  to  see  her.  She  was  going  to  try  to  —  soften 
her.  She  had  planned  to  take  the  journey  —  to  Gains 
borough  —  the  next  week.  I'd  sent  —  others,  the  old 
parson  —  and  a  friend  over  there.  But  the  brothers, 
Dick  Forington  and  John,  were  —  insulting.  They 
talked  of  taking  legal  steps,  to  protect  her  from  my  — 
persecutions."  Vaughan  drew  his  hand  over  his  eyes. 

"  If  I  were  you,"  said  Frank  deliberately,  "  I 
wouldn't  think  of  that  —  now." 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  No,"  said  Vaughan,  "  I  mustn't.  It  would  seem 
like — desecration — to  introduce  that  element,  of  con 
tention — into — a  grief  which — God  knows — is — 
holy!" 

He  said  no  more.  Nor  did  Frank  speak  until  just 
before  they  reached  Eureka.  Then  he  broke  out 
abruptly,  "  I've  been  thinking,  Clem,  that  you'd  bet 
ter  keep  Black  Birdie  as  long  as  she's  here.  I'll 
speak  to  Sykes,  at  the  stable,  about  her  board.  He 
owes  me  and  I'm  not  likely  to  get  it  except  in  some 
such  way  as  this." 

Clement  swallowed  a  lump  which  came  up  in  his 
throat  and  must  be  gotten  rid  of  before  he  could 
answer.  The  offer  was  so  like  that  of  a  boy  who 
tenders  top  or  marbles  to  ease  another  boy's  hurt. 
"  You're  as  kind  as  you  can  be,  Frank,"  he  said  with 
emotion. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  returned  Frank  gruffly. 
"  She's  eating  her  head  off  up  in  Galena.  I've  wanted 
to  get  rid  of  her  for  some  time.  I'll  speak  to  Sykes. 
— That  saddle  you  can  keep  for  the  present.  I'll  get 
somebody  to  drive  me  home." 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE     LITTLE     CHURCH 

THE  Sunday  Sentinel  contained  an  account  of 
the  banquet  at  Ruby  Hill  and  its  sad  end 
ing.  Arthur  Sinclair  read  it  aloud  to  the 
family  when  they  met  at  the  breakfast  table. 

"  Poor  Mr.  Vaughan,"  murmured  Miss  Emmeline. 
"  I  wonder  what  sort  of  people  his  father  and  mother 
were ! " 

"  He  may  feel  more  like  making  his  home  in  this 
country,  now,"  said  Arthur,  folding  the  paper  and 
laying  it  on  the  table.  Katharine  quietly  drew  it 
towards  her  and  reopened  it.  Her  brother  watched 
her,  but  said  nothing. 

"Who  is  going  to  church  this  morning?"  in 
quired  Miss  Emmeline  briskly. 

"  It's  too  hot,"  exclaimed  Mabel. 

"  Too  hot,"  echoed  her  daughter. 

Miss  Emmeline  frowned.  "  /  shall  go,  if  no  one 
else  does  !  "  she  said  firmly. 

"  So  shall  /,"  said  Elsie,  with  a  shake  of  her  curly 
head,  so  like  Aunt  Emmeline's  gesture  that  everyone 
laughed — everyone  but  Elsie's  mother,  who  was  ab 
sorbed  in  her  reading.  How  very,  very  strange  it 
was  for  the  news  to  come  thus,  in  the  midst  of  the 

243 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


gayety  !  She  pictured  to  herself  the  change  in  him 
from  exuberant  high  spirits  to  profoundest  mel 
ancholy. 

He  had  spoken  to  her  of  his  mother  ;  of  his  father, 
too,  but  more  often  of  his  mother.  She  was  very  dear 
to  him. 

It  was  only  fulfilling  the  part  of  a  friend  to  send 
him  a  note  of  condolence.  She  could  give  it  to  Jerry 
to  leave  at  the  study  door  as  they  drove  by  to  church. 

"  Yes,  I'm  going,"  she  replied  to  Miss  Emmeline's 
thrice-repeated  question  ;  "  of  course  I'm  going.  I'll 
be  ready  before  you  are." 

As  far  as  her  own  toilet  was  concerned  she  was 
ready.  The  note  took  more  time.  She  regarded  it 
disapprovingly.  It  had  a  forced,  stilted  sound,  as  if 
the  writer  felt  insecure,  "  as  I  do,"  said  Katharine  to 
herself.  "  He  hasn't  appealed  to  me  for  sympathy. 
I'm  not  sure  that  he  wants  it.  If  I  could  see  him,  I 
should  know  what  to  say.  I  wish  I  could  see  him! 
Here  we  are  going  away  to-morrow,  to  be  gone  all 
summer  ;  I  can't  leave  in  this  way,  without  a  word.  I 
must  see  him  !  " 

It  was  only  the  natural  outcome  of  this  train  of 
thought  that,  as  they  neared  the  Methodist  church, 
instead  of  handing  the  note  to  Jerry,  as  she  at  first 
intended,  my  lady  turned  to  her  companion  with  an 
impulsive  "  Emmeline,  I'm  going  to  hear  Mr. 
Vaughan  preach  to-day  !  "  and  to  her  coachman,  say 
ing,  "  Jerry,  stop  at  the  Methodist  church." 


THE    LITTLE    CHURCH  245 

"Katharine!"  ejaculated  her  sister,  an  expression 
of  dismay  creeping  over  her  fine,  frosted  face,  "  what 
will  people  think  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care  what  people  think,"  replied  the  inde 
pendent  Mrs.  Chisholm.  "  Elsie  can  go  with  you." 

"  I  want  to  hear  C.V.  my  own  self,"  wailed  the 
daughter  of  her  mother. 

"  I  shall  go,  too,"  said  Miss  Emmeline  desperately. 
"  I  could  never  allow  you  to  subject  yourself  to  crit 
icism  by  going  alone  to  hear  that  man  preach.  I 
don't  know  what  Mr.  Haverford  will  think — I  never 
did  such  a  thing  before  in  my  life — but  if  you  are 
determined  to  be  so  rash,  so  utterly  imprudent,  I 
shall  go,  too." 

So  it  chanced  that  those  who  attended  the  modest 
little  Methodist  church  were  set  agog  by  the  hand 
some  Chisholm  turnout  drawn  up  before  the  homely 
wooden  steps,  while  two  ladies  and  a  little  girl  in  ex 
quisite  summer  costume  entered  the  church;  and  the 
Episcopalians,  a  stone's  throw  away,  missed  the  spec 
tacle  upon  which  they  had  feasted  half  the  year. 

Dick  Dale,  who  was  acting  as  usher  that  morning, 
blushed  up  to  his  closely  cropped  curls  and  over  the 
back  of  his  neck,  as  he  saw  the  strangers  approach 
ing.  He  conducted  them  to  seats  well  towards  the 
front,  supplied  them  with  hymn-books  and  fans,  of 
fered  to  open  or  shut  windows,  and  wished  there  was 
something  more  he  could  do,  to  make  them  feel  at 
home. 


246         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

In  spite  of  the  heat  the  church  was  filled,  and 
Vaughan  did  not  at  first  take  note  of  the  addition  to 
his  flock.  But  Elsie's  little  head  in  its  broad-brimmed 
hat  bobbed  so  persistently  to  and  fro,  demanding 
recognition,  that  he  at  last  spied  them  and  betrayed 
the  fact  by  ever  so  slight  a  lift  of  the  eyebrow. 

"  He  saw  me,  mamma,  he  saw  me,  he  did !  "  pro 
claimed  Elsie  in  an  ecstatic  whisper. 

"  If  you  don't  sit  still  and  behave  I'll  take  you 
out,"  her  mother  returned  with  energy,  and  Elsie 
subsided.  She  really  had  quite  enough  to  occupy  her 
in  discovering  differences  between  this  church  and  the 
one  with  which  she  was  familiar.  There  were  no 
stained  glass  windows  here,  no  carved  altar,  no  shin 
ing  candlesticks  and  cross ;  there  were  no  choirboys 
in  cassock  and  cotta;  even  C.  V.  wore  the  same 
clothes  that  he  wore  on  week-days  and  spoke  in  his 
ordinary  tone  of  voice.  It  wasn't  a  bit  like  a  church, 
anyway,  just  a  big,  bare,  sunny  room,  with  chairs 
and  a  place  a  little  higher  up  where  C.  V.  sat;  but 
she  liked  it.  So  did  mamma,  she  was  quite  sure.  But 
Aunt  Emmeline  didn't;  she  was  sniffing  away  at  her 
vinaigrette  as  she  always  did  when  she  didn't  like 
things.  Now  and  then  she  turned  a  woe-begone  look 
on  her  younger  sister.  Katharine  kept  her  eyes  reso 
lutely  before  her.  "  I  don't  care,"  she  said  to  her 
self  ;  "  I  knew  Emmeline  would  be  perfectly  miserable, 
but  she  needn't  have  come  " — then,  with  a  little,  sub 
dued  flutter  of  nebulous  laughter  deep  in  her  own 


THE    LITTLE    CHURCH 


inner  consciousness,  "  It  is  queer,  awfully  queer. 
How  will  he  ever  contrive  to  work  up  an  atmosphere 
without  any  accessories  ?  " 

Louise  Barker  came  forward  and  seated  herself  at 
the  small  cabinet  organ.  The  preacher  announced 
the  hymn.  Instantly  the  entire  congregation  were 
on  their  feet,  singing  away  with  all  their  might, 
because  —  their  leader  was  singing  with  all  his 
might. 

Then  he  prayed  as  if  he  meant  it,  and  an  old  gray- 
haired  miner  behind  uttered  a  fervent  "  Amen  !  "  so 
loudly  that  Elsie  jumped,  and  Aunt  Emmeline  plied 
her  vinaigrette  more  assiduously  than  before.  Then 
they  sang  again.  The  Scripture-reading  should  have 
followed,  but  as  the  preacher  opened  his  Bible  a 
harsh,  guttural  voice  called  at  the  open  door, 
"  Mushie?  "  and  .down  the  aisle  stalked  a  big  Paiuti 
Indian,  dressed  in  ragged  trousers  and  a  calico  shirt, 
and  with  a  red  banda.nna  tied  around  his  head.  In 
his  hand  was  a  big  tomato  can  filled  with  mushrooms. 
This  he  held  out  to  the  preacher,  repeating, 
"  Mushie  ?  Buy  mushie  ?  "  disdaining  alike  the  stir 
of  amusement  among  the  less  sedate  of  the  congrega 
tion  and  the  efforts  of  Dick  Dale  to  seize  and  put 
him  out. 

For  an  instant  Vaughan  looked  the  embarrassment 
he  could  but  feel,  over  such  a  betra}^!  of  the  secrets 
of  his  housekeeping.  Then  he  quietly  took  the  can, 
saying  to  the  Paiuti,  "  All  right,  pay  to-morrow," 


248         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

carried  it  into  the  study  and  returned  to  his  Bible- 
reading. 

The  Indian  stalked  out  again,  indifferent  to  obser 
vation  as  he  had  been  when  he  entered.  The  Parson 
went  on  with  his  reading. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  man ! "  thought  Katha 
rine.  "  What  will  happen  next  ?  Are  things  always 
happening  here?" 

It  was  certainly  a  day  out  of  the  ordinary,  even 
for  the  Methodist  church  and  the  Sage  Brush  Parson. 
As  he  closed  his  Bible  and  prepared  to  announce  his 
text,  little  Maud  Wellman,  restless  with  the  heat, 
slipped  from  her  mother's  arms  and  darted  towards 
the  platform.  She  had  spied  a  glass  of  water  on  the 
table  and,  being  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the  man 
who  stood  beside  it,  determined  to  ask  him  for  a  drink. 
With  the  utmost  confidence  she  looked  up  into  his 
face,  pointed  with  a  fat  little  forefinger  at  the  glass 
and  demanded,  in  her  imperious  baby  voice,  heard 
distinctly  over  the  church,  "  Dink,  pease!  " 

Instantly  Clement  forgot  everything  except  her 
child's  faith  in  him,  a  faith  like  that  he  had  had  in 
the  father  and  mother  he  had  lost,  a  faith  like  that 
he  meant  to  instill  into  his  people  for  the  Father 
unseen. 

He  took  the  little  girl  in  his  arms.  A  look  of  inef 
fable  tenderness  overspread  his  face.  "  Except  ye 
become  as  little  children,"  he  said  reverently,  and 
held  the  glass  to  her  lips;  then,  as  he  set  her  down, 


THE    LITTLE    CHURCH 


he  added,  "  Whoso  shall  drink  of  the  water  that  Christ 
shall  give  him,  shall  never  thirst." 

Maud  ran  back  to  her  mother. 

Elsie,  jealously  watching  the  performance,  started 
up  impetuously.  "  I'm  thirsty,  too,"  she  whispered. 
"  Sit  down,"  said  her  mother  sternly,  and  Elsie 
obeyed. 

There  was  a  hush  of  expectancy  throughout  the 
church.  The  congregation  felt  that  something  was 
coming,  and  it  came.  Made  sensitive  to  the  appeal 
of  the  Spirit  by  his  loss  and  by  the  night  of  reminis 
cence  and  of  mourning,  touched  by  the  presence  of 
so  many  sympathizing  friends,  including  the  woman 
who  always  understood  and  was  helpful,  the  heart  of 
the  young  preacher  needed  only  this  last  touch  to 
make  it  overflow. 

Discarding  the  notes  he  had  prepared,  and  accept 
ing  as  his  text  the  words  that  the  child  had  put  into 
his  mouth,  he  stretched  out  his  arms  with  a  tender, 
compelling  gesture  and  bade  them  come  as  little  chil 
dren,  confident  of  what  they  were  sure  to  receive. 

With  one  of  his  swift,  sudden  inspirations,  he 
described  their  own  thirst  and  their  inability  to 
quench  it,  and  pleaded  with  them,  as  one  who  felt 
their  need  and  longed  to  satisfy  it,  to  drink  of  the 
living  water  which  Christ  alone  could  give.  Every 
atom  of  him  vibrated.  He  was  like  a  flame. 

The  vision  passed.  The  light  went  out  of  him. 
He  faltered  the  final  prayer.  Many  of  the  congrega- 


£50         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

tion  lingered.  A  score  or  more  went  up  to  speak  to 
him.  Katharine  waited  for  them  to  be  through  with 
what  they  had  to  say,  meanwhile  laying  a  controlling 
hand  on  Elsie  and  ignoring  Miss  Emmeline's  quaver 
ing  reminder  that  Jerry  and  the  horses  were 
outside. 

At  length  the  loiterers  withdrew,  all  but  Jack 
Perry,  whom  Katharine  knew  only  by  sight.  This, 
she  told  herself,  would  be  a  good  opportunity  to  meet 
him  and  to  condescend  to  the  strange  world  in  which 
the  young  preacher  lived  and  worked. 

"  Stay  with  auntie,  dear,"  she  whispered  to  Elsie 
and  sailed  up  to  the  two  men,  holding  out  her  hand 
to  the  younger.  "  I  came  to  bring  you  sympathy, 
and  you  gave  me  inspiration,"  she  said  earnestly. 

Vaughan  showed  his  pleasure  at  seeing  her,  though 
he  only  said,  "  You  are  always  kind."  He  turned  to 
introduce  Jack.  She  put  out  a  small  gloved  hand. 
"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  so  prominent  a  citizen  of 
Eureka,"  she  said  graciously ;  "  it  is  strange  we 
haven't  met  before." 

The  big  gray  man  eyed  her  suspiciously.  "Not 
so  strange  as  our  meeting  now,"  he  said  bluntly. 

She  was  too  well  cared  for,  too  well-dressed,  too 
sure  of  herself.  What  did  she  want  with  the  Par 
son,  anyway?  Reluctantly  he  moved  away  and  gave 
her  an  opportunity  for  the  private,  personal  words. 

"  You  were  very  kind  to  come,"  said  Vaughan 
wistfully. 


THE    LITTLE    CHURCH  251 

"  I  couldn't  keep  away,"  she  answered,  with  a  little 
quick  indrawing  of  the  breath.  "  I  am — oh  so 
sorry !  "  Her  voice  was  low  and  sweet. 

"  I  know,  I  feel  it.  It  is  a  help,"  he  said  with  feel 
ing.  "  You  have  been  always  kind  and  good — a  true 
friend." 

"  I  am  glad  you  feel  that,"  she  returned  warmly. 
"  I  am  going  away  to-morrow,  but  I  shall  think  of 
you  often,  doing  your  wonderful  work."  Her  voice 
sank  still  lower.  "  But — do  be  careful !  You  give 
yourself  too  generously.  You  are  Buddha  with  the 
tiger,  and  I  don't  believe  the  tiger  appreciates  it. — 
I  shall  want  to  find  you  here  in  the  fall  when  I  come 
back." 

Their  hands  met  again  in  farewell.  Their  eyes  did 
not  meet:  they  were  lowered,  yielding  to  the  inner 
sight  with  which  at  that  moment  each  discerned  the 
other. 

"  I  must  say  he's  a  remarkable  preacher,"  granted 
Miss  Emmeline,  as  they  drove  home,  "  but  eccentric 
is  no  name  for  it ! " 

Katharine  went  to  her  own  room  and  remained 
there  alone  all  the  afternoon.  Elsie,  after  investiga 
ting,  through  a  crack  in  the  door,  reported  that 
mamma  was  asleep.  There  was  a  stillness,  a  silence 
like  that  of  sleep  over  and  around  her,  but  within  it 
she  kept  vigil  with  her  own  thoughts.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  she  arose  and  went  to  the  piano,  over 
which  the  outline  of  the  Prometheus  showed  faintly 


252         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

in  the  growing  darkness.  She  played  the  melody  of 
the  little  song  and  sang  softly,  under  her  breath,  the 
one  verse  she  had  written  for  it. 

Another  verse  she  added,  as  she  sat  there,  but  this 
she  did  not  sing,  not  even  under  her  breath,  alone  as 
she  was,  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

SOBERING    OFF    A    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

THE  summer  of  1882  was  an  unusually  try 
ing  one  in  Eureka.  There  was  a  continu 
ance  of  hot,  dry  weather,  during  which  the 
springs  ran  low,  and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  sick 
ness.  Dr.  Addison  alternated  periods  of  devoted, 
self-exhausting  attention  with  other  periods  of 
drunkenness  and  incapacity.  Dr.  Elliott,  who  came 
to  atone  for  Dr.  Addison's  shortcomings,  found  him 
self  a  possible  candidate  for  State  senator  and  was 
usually  away,  "  laying  pipe,"  when  he  was  needed. 
Vaughan's  services,  both  as  surgeon  and  physician, 
were  in  constant  demand.  He  alone  of  the  three  was 
always  ready,  always  capable  and  untiring. 

The  exalted  mood  in  which  he  found  himself,  this 
summer,  had  much  to  do  with  the  efficiency  of  his 
work.  He  seemed  endowed  with  superhuman  strength, 
watched  over  and  supported  by  angelic  intelligences. 
Did  his  mother  know?  he  queried.  Was  she  permitted 
to  be  near  and  to  assist  him?  Did  the  thoughts  of 
that  other  woman,  that  living  woman  with  the  kind, 
earnest  gray  eyes,  furnish  another  factor  in  his  suc 
cess?  Both  were,  to  him,  expressions  of  the  great 

253 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


Feminine  Principle  which,  at  some  time  in  their  lives, 
men  of  thoughtful,  sensitive  make  are  inclined,  con 
sciously  or  unconsciously,  to  venerate.  For  their 
sake  and  because  of  what  they  stood  for,  all  women 
became  sacred  to  him.  Even  the  creatures  of  the 
street  were  as  battered,  disfigured  vessels  that  had 
once  held  the  holy  oil  and  wine  of  human  joy  and  com 
fort.  Many  a  poor  wretch  watched  with  dull,  glazed 
eyes  his  glowing  face  while  he  pleaded  with  her  to 
return  to  her  high  office  of  priestess  and  queen. 
Many  a  dying  penitent  clung  with  fever-burned 
fingers  to  that  long  brown  hand  while  he  prayed  her 
soul  hence  to  the  mercy  of  the  One  who  waited  to 
receive  it.  As  to  the  mothers,  they  told  him  of  every 
tooth  that  pricked  through,  every  colic  pain,  sure  of 
his  interest  and  cooperation.  By  far  the  larger 
share  of  the  new  babies  that  summer  reached  Eureka 
under  his  skillful  convoy  and  solicitous  care.  He 
wondered  sometimes  how  it  would  seem  to  have  a  child 
of  his  own.  It  would  never  be.  Delia's  persistent 
refusal  to  come  to  him,  her  return  of  his  letters 
unread,  while  robbing  him  of  the  past  gave  him  no 
future,  as  far  as  home  and  wife  and  child  were  con 
cerned.  His  only  future  lay  in  his  work. 

It  was  future  enough.  The  crowding  experiences 
of  a  year  and  a  half  already  shut  the  door  on  the 
past  and  flung  open  the  door  of  the  future,  a  future 
in  which  Delia  had  no  part.  The  Clement  Vaughan 
who  had  known  and  loved  her  was  another  man, 


SOBERING    A    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY     255 

rather  the  shadow,  the  outline,  the  promise  of  the 
man  he  was  becoming,  thanks  to  the  work  that  pressed 
and  crowded  and  shaped  him  so  that  from  day  to  day 
he  felt  himself  change  and  grow.  A  new  self-respect 
had  been  kindled,  a  new  desire  for  influence  had  been 
aroused.  When  his  opinion  was  asked,  he  gave  it  as 
having  weight  and  worth.  When  it  seemed  good  to 
him  to  interfere,  he  interfered.  Very  little  went  on 
in  Eureka,  of  importance,  that  he  did  not  know  of, 
have  a  hand  in,  bring  out  as  he  would  have  it. 

In  everything  Jack  was  his  staunch  ally  and  sup 
port.  Only  these  two  working  together  could  have 
saved  for  Barker  his  election  as  district  attorney. 
There  was  some  doubt  in  both  their  minds,  the  night 
before  the  administration  of  the  oath,  as  to  whether, 
after  all,  it  had  been  a  wise  thing  to  do.  Jack  had 
come  into  the  study  looking  exceedingly  glum  and 
had  rehearsed  the  plight  in  which  he  had  found 
Barker  a  half -hour  before. 

"  We  done  it,  you  and  I,"  he  said  dejectedly,  "  and 
we've  got  to  stand  to  it ;  we've  got  to  see  the  thing 
through.  If  we  can  sober  him  off  till  he  takes  the 
oath,  I  believe  he'll  keep  straight  after  that.  Any 
way,  drunk  or  sober,  I'd  rather  have  him  than 
Winslow." 

"  So  would  I,"  said  Vaughan.  "  There's  always 
more  hope  for  a  drunkard  than " 

"  A  cuss!  "  finished  Jack,  "  and  Winslow's  the  big 
gest  cuss  in  cussendom." 


256         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"Where  is  Barker?"  asked  the  Parson. 

"  Over  at  the  saloon,  locked  up  in  one  of  the  private 
rooms,"  replied  Jack.  "  But  I  can't  keep  him  there. 
He's  at  the  stupid  stage  now.  When  he  begins  to 
talk  about  killing  Bill  Isham " 

"Who's  Bill  Isham?"  interrupted  the  Parson. 

"  Lord  knows,  I  don't,"  returned  Jack,  "  nor  no 
one  else.  But  when  Barker  is  just  about  so  drunk 
he  always  sets  out  to  kill  Bill  Isham.  When  he 
starts  in  on  that  I'll  have  to  take  him  somewhere 
else." 

"  Suppose  you  bring  him  over  here,"  suggested 
Vaughan. 

Jack's  face  brightened.  "  Could  you  have  him 
here?  "  he  asked.  "  'Twould  be  quiet  and  out  of  the 
way  and  you  could  watch  him " 

"  Bring  him  along,"  said  Vaughan. 

Jack  went  away  and  returned  with  what  appeared 
to  be  a  bundle  of  old  clothes,  which  he  dropped  into 
the  nearest  chair.  Out  of  the  bundle  popped  a  straw- 
colored  head,  and  a  pair  of  weak,  watery  blue  eyes 
roved  aimlessly  about  the  room. 

"  Looks  like  a  chicken  with  the  pip,  don't  he ! " 
exclaimed  Jack  in  disgust.  "  Nice  figger  of  a  dis 
trict  attorney  he  is !  " 

"  He  may  come  out  of  it  all  right  by  to-morrow 
afternoon,"  said  Vaughan,  whose  experience  in  the 
past  year  with  "  drunks  "  had  taught  him  to  take  a 
hopeful  view  of  such  conditions. 


SOBERING    A    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY       257 

"  Where'll  I  put  him?  "  asked  Jack,  looking  about. 

"  In  my  bedroom,  I  suppose,"  said  Vaughan,  not 
overjoyed  at  the  prospect. 

"  Where  you  going  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  On  four  chairs.  There  are  plenty  of  blankets 
to  soften  them,  and  I  have  two  pillows — come  on, 
I'll  help  you." 

They  lifted  Barker  between  them ;  his  nerveless  legs 
dragged  helplessly  along  the  floor. 

"  Now — up  he  goes !  "  cried  Vaughan,  and  they 
tumbled  him  on  to  the  bed. 

"  It's  awful  good  of  you,  Parson,"  drawled  Jack, 
looking  down  on  Barker,  who  was  already  slumbering 
like  a  child.  "  If  I  warn't  fixed  as  I  am — a  married 
man — I'd  take  him  in  myself.  Just  sorter  tide  him 
over  the  Bill  Isham  stage  and  he'll  be  easy  to  manage, 
after  that." 

He  said  good-night  and  started  for  the  door,  but 
returned.  "  If  you  could  contrive  to  let  me  know 
how  he  is  in  the  morning  " — he  began — "  I  wouldn't 
want  to  have  him  go  till  he's  sure  all  right.  Mrs. 
Barker  Number  Two  ain't  the  sweetest-tempered 
woman  that  ever  was  in  the  world."  He  took  his 
leave. 

Vaughan  stood  for  some  minutes,  gazing  down  at 
the  small,  shrunken  figure  on  the  bed.  Whatever 
could  tempt  a  man  to  make  such  a  spectacle  of  him 
self !  The  relaxed  jaw,  the  parted  lips — how  weak 
they  were !  The  little,  womanish  hands  that  twitched 


258         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

and  plucked  at  the  bedclothes — their  appeal  was  only 
to  a  pity  which  was  more  than  half  contempt.  To 
give  up  control,  to  renounce  authority  over  one's 
self — how  could  anyone  be  so  mad! 

And  for  what?  The  temporary  gratification  of  an 
appetite  which  was  not  even  thirst. 

Barker,  too,  a  man  who  had  read  and  thought,  who 
knew  human  nature,  knew  his  own  and  its  needs, 
could  respond  to  what  was  great  and  fine,  who  adored 
his  daughter  and  was  by  her  loved  tenderly!  She 
refused  to  leave  him,  even  when  he  urged  it,  and  her 
stepmother  made  things  hard.  How  could  he,  how 
could  he !  And  now,  of  all  times,  when  office  and 
honor  awaited  him! 

Vaughan  returned  to  his  desk.  At  intervals  he 
glanced  towards  the  bedroom,  but  quiet  continued 
to  prevail.  He  almost  forgot  his  charge,  in  the  book 
he  was  reading. 

Suddenly  the  bed  creaked;  Barker  was  awake  and 
struggling  to  rise.  Vaughan  went  to  him  and  tried 
to  put  him  back  into  bed,  but  Barker  pushed 
him  aside,  and  succeeded  in  reaching  a  sitting 
posture. 

"  Pard,"  he  said  gravely,  "  I've  got  to  kill  Bill 
Isham!" 

"What  for?"  demanded  Vaughan  curiously0  He 
would  really  like  to  know. 

Barker  ignored  the  question.  "  Got  to  do  it,"  he 
said  earnestly.  "Got  to  do  it.  Got  to  kill  Bill 


SOBERING    A    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY     259 

Isham.  He  neither  fears  God  nor  regards  man.  Got 
to  do  it.  Got  to  kill  Bill  Isham."  The  last  words 
died  away  in  a  murmur.  The  tide  of  drunken  sleep 
was  rising  again.  He  lay  down  muttering. 

Vaughan  watched  him  for  a  few  minutes  and  then 
went  back  to  his  desk. 

In  another  half -hour  Barker  was  up  again.  This 
time  he  plunged  wildly  forward,  and  was  sitting  on 
the  edge  of  the  bed  when  Vaughan  approached 
him. 

"Got  to  do  it!"  he  cried.  "  Got  to  kill  Bill 
Isham ! " 

He  looked  imploringly  up  at  Vaughan  as  the  latter 
bent  over  him.  "  What  would  you  do,  pard  ?  "  he 
wailed. 

"  I'd  let  him  wait,"  said  Vaughan  with  decision. 
"  There  isn't  any  hurry  about  it." 

"  He  neither  fears  God  nor  regards  man,"  said 
Barker  solemnly.  "  If  there's  anything  in  this  world 
I  hate,  it's  one  thing  more'n  another."  He  lay  down 
again,  muttering,  and  was  once  more  sound  asleep. 

This  sort  of  thing  went  on,  at  intervals,  all  through 
the  night.  Again  and  again,  the  drugged  brain 
faltered  and  stumbled  and  fell  back  powerless  before 
its  self-imposed  task.  Thought  went  to  pieces  before 
it,  action  was  impossible.  Again  and  again  Vaughan 
strove  to  fix  the  floating  intelligence  which  evermore 
drifted  out  of  his  reach. 

"  Barker !  "  he  called,  "  Barker !  try  to  come  back, 


260         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

try  to  be  yourself.  Try  to  throw  this  off.  There  is 
so  much  at  stake." 

If  he  could  reach  that  thing  which  stood  for 
Barker's  soul,  and  grasp  and  raise  it,  the  poor  help 
less  body  must  obey.  "  Barker !  "  he  called  into  the 
deaf  ear;  "  listen  to  me!  You  must,  and  save  your 
self  !  Come  up  out  of  those  depths  and  be  a  man ! 
Assert  yourself! 

"  This  is  your  last  chance !  If  you  don't  respond 
to  it  you  will  go  down — to  stay  there !  Be  a  man,  be 
a  trusted  officer  of  the  State!  A  true  friend,  a  lov 
ing  father!  You  can  do  it.  You  must  do  it.  Think 
of  your  daughter!  Think  of  Louise!  " 

At  length  he  seemed  to  grip  something  and  to  hold 
it.  A  gleam  shot  from  under  the  purple  eyelids. 
"  Where  am  I  ?  "  asked  Barker  feebly.  "  What  time 
is  it?" 

"  You  are  in  my  room.  It  is  six  o'clock.  The  bells 
are  beginning  to  ring,"  said  Vaughan.  "  Hear 
that?" 

Father  O'Keefe  had  on  his  little  church  a  chime  of 
bells.  Three  times  a  day  they  rang  the  Angelus,  as 
now.  "  Glory  be  to  the  Father ! "  they  rang. 
"  Glory  be  to  the  Son !  Glory  be  to  the  Holy  Ghost !  " 
It  was  an  innocent,  hopeful  sound. 

Tears  slowly  welled  up  to  the  red  rims  framing 
Barker's  blood-shot  eyes. 

"  Lie  down  again,  and  I'll  make  you  some  coffee," 
said  Vaughan  practically.  • 


SOBERING    A    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY     2(51 

Barker  obeyed. 

He  took  the  cup  with  trembling  hands,  but  they 
grew  steadier  as  he  drank.  The  light  was  rising  and 
running  down  the  hill.  A  bright  ray  shot  through 
the  study  windows  and  lay  upon  the  floor.  The  tiny 
coffee-pot  bubbled  and  spluttered  over  the  fire.  The 
fresh  morning  breeze  entered  gayly  at  the  windows. 
It  was  like  coming  into  port  after  a  night  of 
storm. 

Barker  sipped  his  coffee. 

"  To-day  has  arrived,"  he  said  pensively.  "  Before 
we  begin  on  it,  we'd  better  dispose  of  yesterday. 
Off  with  the  old  love  and  on  with  the  new ! " 

Vaughan  sighed,  in  utter  discouragement.  What 
did  the  man  mean?  Was  he  still  unbalanced?  Then 
what,  in  God's  name,  would  settle  him?  Must  they 
give  up  the  fight,  after  all? 

Barker  handed  him  the  cup.  Vaughan  walked 
away  with  it. 

"  Come  back  here,"  demanded  Barker.  He 
fumbled  in  his  hip  pocket  and  brought  out  a  flask 
half-filled  with  whisky;  this,  with  a  profound 
obeisance,  he  extended. 

"  The  surrendering  officer  yields  up  his  sword," 
he  said  gravely. 

"  Wait !  Now,  I  am  going  to  take  the  oath."  He 
steadied  himself  by  the  bedpost,  his  face  turned 
towards  the  window  through  which  the  light  came. 

"  Henceforth,   from  this   day,   the  tenth  of   Sep- 


262         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

tember,  1882,"  he  began  huskily,  "  I  do  assume  the 
responsibilities  of  a  citizen,"  his  voice  cleared — 
"  a  friend — and — and  a  father,  and  bind  myself  to 
follow  a  sober,  temperate,  conscientious  life,  so  help 
me,  God!" 

"  Amen !  "  said  Vaughan  fervently,  holding  out  his 
hand.  Barker  grasped  it,  but  suddenly  let  go  and 
fell  back  on  the  bed,  his  forehead  bedewed  with 
moisture  from  the  effort  he  had  been  making. 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  equal  to  it? "  inquired 
Vaughan  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Barker.  "A  pail  of  cold  water  and 
a  towel  will  complete  the  cure.  I'd  like  to  get  word 
to  Louise  to  come  over  here  with  my  clothes.  I'd 
rather  not  meet  Mrs.  Barker,  at  present." 

"  I'll  arrange  that,"  said  Vaughan.  He  hesitated 
at  the  door.  Was  it  quite  safe  to  leave  Barker  alone? 
He  slipped  the  flask  into  his  pocket  and  surrepti 
tiously  locked  the  door  behind  him,  putting  the  key 
into  his  pocket.  In  a  short  time  he  returned  with 
Louise  and  the  bag.  Then  he  hunted  up  Jack. 

"All  right?"  inquired  the  saloon-keeper. 

"  All  right,"  Vaughan  returned. 

"You  didn't  find  out  who  Bill  Isham  was?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  you  won't ;  nor  will  anyone  else.  Neither 
will  they  find  out  why  Barker  married  Mrs.  Barker 
Number  Two ;  nor  why  he  sticks  to  her,  now  that  he's 
got  her." 


SOBERING    A    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY     263 

"  I  hope  he'll  stick  to  his  oath,  as  well,"  mused 
Vaughan. 

"  He  will,  when  he's  once  taken  it,"  said  Jack. 

But  Vaughan  was  thinking  of  the  oath  Barker  had 
already  taken,  standing  in  the  little  bedroom,  with 
his  face  towards  the  light. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

TIRED 

THERE  seemed  to  be  a  conspiracy,  between 
the  various  people  who  depended  upon 
Vaughan,  to  keep  him  from  getting  any 
sleep.  The  night  following  his  experience  with 
Barker  was  spent  with  a  sick  child  over  on  N  Street. 
The  next  night  Mike  Flynn  came  for  him.  Mary's 
time  had  arrived  and  neither  Dr.  Elliott  nor  Dr. 
Addison  could  be  found. 

"  I'll  come,"  said  Vaughan,  glancing  ruefully  at 
the  bed  which  he  had  not  occupied  for  two  nights. 
"  Go  right  along,  Mike.  I'll  be  there  almost  as  soon 
as  you  are." 

"  Sure,  ye  will  that,  if  ye  take  yer  ord'n'ry  gait," 
said  Mike  admiringly. 

The  Parson's  rate  of  speed  had  been  the  subject 
of  much  comment  in  Eureka.  Bets  had  been  made 
more  than  once  on  the  length  of  time  it  would  take 
him  to  get  from  N  Street  to  the  Methodist  church. 
But  to-night  he  lagged.  The  vim  had  gone  out  of 
him.  Only  the  presence  of  suffering,  the  appeal  of 
need,  could  bring  life  out  of  anything  so  dead  as  he 
felt  himself  to  be. 

Once  in  the  midst  of  the  struggle,  however,  he 


TIRED  265 


found  resources  in  himself  which  availed,  and 
stumbled  home  at  dawn  well  pleased  with  his  night's 
work.  He  flung  himself  on  his  bed,  dressed,  as  he 
was,  and  slept  heavily  until  noon. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  with  no  sense  of  refreshment. 
The  fatigue,  the  heaviness  which  he  had  held  off  by 
sheer  force  of  will  during  his  waking  hours  had 
returned  during  sleep.  He  could  not  resist  them. 
He  sat  up  and  loosened  his  collar  with  an  effort, 
as  if  he  were  someone  else  whom  he  was  trying  to 
revive.  The  air  was  stifling.  He  pulled  himself 
together  and  went  to  the  window.  It  was  but  little 
better  there.  He  had  eaten  nothing  since  the  night 
before,  but  the  thought  of  food  sickened  him.  His 
eyes  fell  on  Barker's  flask,  left  standing  on  his  desk 
since  the  "  sobering  off." 

"  I  suppose  a  swallow  of  that  would  give  me  a 
start,"  he  said,  smiling  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
thought — he  taking  a  drink  from  Barker's  flask! 
"  It  is  more  than  that  I  crave,  elixir  vitce,  a  breath  of 
the  hills.  I  will  go  up  to  Galena." 

He  found  his  way  around  to  the  stable  and  ordered 
them  to  saddle  Black  Birdie. 

"  There's  something  wrong  with  her,"  said  the 
hostler.  "  She's  off  her  feed  and  kinder  droopy.  She 
ain't  ben  rode  enough,  but  if  you're  goin'  fur  I 
wouldn't  advise  it  all  to  oncet." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Clement. 

There  was  no  train  for  Galena  until  night.   Where 


266          THE   SAGE  BRUSH  PARSON 

should  he  go?  In  his  weakness  and  disappointment, 
he  was  very  near  tears.  He  did  not  want  Jack,  he 
did  not  want  any  man.  He  wanted  the  atmosphere 
only  a  woman  can  give.  He  wanted  Mary  Henle}r — 
or — Catherine  Chisholm.  She  would  understand. 
She  would  talk  to  him,  play  to  him,  rest  him.  The 
family  were  back.  He  had  caught  a  glimpse  of 
them,  the  day  before,  and  they  had  called  out  to  him 
and  told  him  to  come  up  and  see  them. 

With  a  rush  of  hopeful  anticipation,  he  set  out  for 
Richmond  Hill. 

There  another  disappointment  awaited  him. 
Everyone  except  Miss  Emmeline  had  gone  driving. 
He  found  her  sitting  on  the  veranda,  with  the  inevi 
table  novel.  And  because,  just  then,  her  heart  was 
full  of  the  hero  of  it,  she  welcomed  him  with  pensive 
cordiality.  He  almost  fell  into  the  chair  opposite 
her.  She  started  up  in  alarm. 

"  Mr.  Vaughan,  you  are  ill !  Yes,  you  are.  You 
are  ill !  "  she  cried.  "  Come  right  into  the  house  and 
lie  down  and  I'll  bring  you  something." 

She  insisted  upon  his  entering  the  house  and  her 
self  shook  up  the  pillows  of  the  couch. 

"  Lie  right  down,"  she  said  authoritatively.  "  I 
am  going  to  bring  you  some  egg-nogg.  No,  I  won't 
put  anything  in  it  except  a  little,  a  very  little, 
sherry.  Don't  say  a  word !  " 

She  bustled  away  and  soon  returned  with  the 
draught.  So  comforting  it  was,  so  kind  her  face  as 


TIRED  267 


she  bent  above  him,  that  Vaughan,  universal  lover  of 
the  sex,  sent  up  to  her  a  glance  like  a  prayer,  and 
raised  her  soft,  little,  old,  wrinkled  hand  to  his  lips. 
She  smiled  and  blushed  and  would  have  withdrawn  it. 

"  Don't  go,"  he  pleaded.     "  Sit  here  by  me." 

"You  ought  to  go  to  sleep,"  she  said  indulgently. 

"  I  will,"  he  promised,  but  kept  fast  hold  of  her 
hand. 

So  she  sat  down  beside  him,  her  hand  still  in  his, 
and  watched  his  eyes  close,  embarrassed,  flattered, 
touched  by  his  dependence  upon  her,  hoping  with  all 
her  heart  that  no  one  would  come  in  and  find  him 
there. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  had  a  fair  look  at 
him.  What  a  beautiful  white  brow  he  had,  but  so 
lined  by  care  and  thought,  poor  fellow !  How  heavy 
his  lashes  were !  How  straight  and  clear-cut  his  nose ! 
She  took  note  of  his  long,  straight  body,  his  slender 
brown  hands,  his  aristocratic  feet!  There  was 
family  in  him,  Miss  Emmeline  decided,  whatever  his 
present  status. 

She  watched  him  until  his  breathing  grew  deeper, 
more  even.  He  was  asleep.  She  tried  to  withdraw 
her  hand,  but  he  clasped  it  more  closely,  and  she 
resigned  herself  to  the  position  in  which  she  found 
herself,  half  dozing,  too,  as  she  leaned  back  in  her 
chair. 

The  door  was  flung  open.  Someone  entered  the 
shaded  room — Katharine,  of  all  persons  in  the  world! 


268         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Miss  Emmeline  pulled  away  her  hand.  Vaughan's 
dark  eyes  opened.  He  gazed  wonderingly  up  at 
Katharine.  She  advanced,  stood  irresolute,  sur 
prised,  amused,  not  altogether  pleased  at  what  she 
saw. 

Mr.  Vaughan  asleep  on  the  couch?  Holding 
Emmeline's  hand?  What  did  it  mean?  Vaughan  sat 
up,  laughing. 

"  Your  good  sister  has  wrought  a  miracle,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  I  was  a  dead  man  when  I  came  here 
an  hour  ago." 

"  I'm  very  glad  you  feel  better,"  said  Miss 
Emmeline  primly.  "  I  will  ask  you  to  excuse  me, 
now.  I  have  some  matters  to  attend  to."  She 
retreated  with  awkward  abruptness. 

Katharine  laughed.  She  was  quite  reassured  now, 
inclined  to  be  exultant.  Even  Emmeline,  precise, 
critical,  uncompromising  Emmeline,  could  not  resist 
him!  Who,  indeed,  could? 

Vaughan  stood  up  and  combed  his  tangled  locks 
with  his  fingers.  "  It  was  very  dreadful  of  me, 
wasn't  it ! "  he  exclaimed  penitently.  "  To  take 
advantage  of  her  kind-heartedness!  But  I  was 
quite  fagged  out." 

"  You  are  yet,"  she  returned.  "  Come  into  my  sit 
ting-room.  The  children  will  be  here  presently.  You 
are  not  fit  to  have  them  pulling  you  about.  Mabel 
had  only  two  or  three  errands  to  do — I  left  them  with 
her — they  will  be  here  directly." 


TIRED  269 


She  led  the  way  across  the  hall  to  the  little  sitting- 
room.  He  followed  contentedly.  In  every  vein  she 
felt  his  need  of  her. 

"  Si£  here,"  she  commanded,  turning  the  back  of 
the  big  lounging-chair  to  the  light.  He  obeyed,  only 
too  glad  to  be  told  what  to  do.  But,  as  he  sat  there, 
watching  her  move  about,  push  a  chair  into  place, 
adjust  a  curtain,  the  melancholy  of  the  mood  in 
which  he  had  awakened  at  noon  returned  to  him. 

She  saw  the  shadow  cross  his  face.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 
she  asked,  drawing  a  low  chair  towards  him  and  seat 
ing  herself  in  it.  "What  troubles  you?" 

"  Everything !  "  he  answered  impetuously.  "  No, 
you  don't,"  catching  the  question  on  her  lips. 

"  You  are  tired,"  she  said  soothingly.  "  That  is 
all." 

"  Is  it  not  enough?  "  he  asked.  "  When  it  means 

exhaustion — disheartenment "  he  turned  his  head 

away  as  if  he  would  escape  her  recognition  of  his 
weakness:  but  her  glance  followed  and  found  it — it 
was  here,  she  felt,  to  change  into  strength.  Listless, 
unresisting,  his  tired  head  throwrn  back,  his  tired  body 
limp  tamong  the  cushions,  he  was  hers,  to  be  rested, 
comforted,  uplifted.  She  could  do  as  she  would  with 
him. 

So  it  has  happened  to  a  man  before,  and  will 
again,  when  he  is  tired. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

PROMETHEUS 

I  KNEW  how  it  would  be,"  she  said  softly. 
It  made  very  little  difference  what  she  said, 
if  she  could  only  maintain  that  calming,  quiet 
ing  control.  "Don't  you  remember?  I  told  you* 
Life  is  too  hard,  here,  too  exacting,  too  unideal,  for 
a  man  like  you." 

His  eyes  came  back  to  hers.  "  For  a  man  like  me?  " 
he  repeated.  "  What  sort  of  a  man  am  I  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  at  once. 

"  I  know  why  you  don't  answer,"  he  said  mourn 
fully.  "  You  hate  to  tell  me  that  I  am  a  failure." 

"  A  failure!  "  she  exclaimed;  "  in  what  way?  " 

"  In  every  way,"  he  returned  bitterly.  "  Do  you 
think  I  cannot  see  how  utterly  inadequate  I  am  to  the 
work  here?  " 

"  How  can  you  talk  like  that?  "  she  cried. 

She  threw  off  her  heavy  flower-trimmed  hat  and 
pushed  back  her  soft  bright  hair  with  an  impatient 
gesture.  "  I  will  not  let  you  talk  like  that !  "  she  said 
earnestly.  "  It  is  false,  wrong !  You,  with  your 
power !  Your  influence !  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  A  feather's  weight  against 
these  forces  here!"  he  said  dejectedly. 

2TO 


PROMETHEUS  271 

"  Your  eloquence,  your  apostolic  fire ! "  she 
continued. 

He  scoffed.  "  Very  pretty,  no  doubt !  But  hardly 
apostolic ! " 

"  Promethean,  then."  She  smiled.  "  I  do  think  you 
are  more  of  Olympus  than  of  Sinai." 

How  pale  he  was!  How  sad  the  lines  about  his 
mouth!  How  pathetic  the  appeal  in  his  eyes!  She 
must  give  back  the  stir,  the  sparkle  he  had  brought 
with  him  to  this  dreadful  place!  Then  it  had  been 
the  music  that  enkindled  him.  It  should  be  again. 
The  song,  the  song,  he  must  hear  the  song ! 

"  You've  never  asked  for  the  verses  I  was  to  write 
for  your  melody,"  she  said,  flushing. 

"  Did  you  do  them?  "  he  inquired.  "  Why  didn't 
you  tell  me  ?  When  was  it  ?  " 

"  Almost  a  year  ago,"  she  answered.  "  Haven't 
I  kept  the  secret  well?  Would  you  really  like  to  hear 
them  ? "  She  went  to  the  piano  and  struck  a  few 
chords. 

"B  flat,"  he  called.  "Yes,  that's  right,  that's 
right ! "  He  was  drumming  an  accompaniment  on 
the  arms  of  his  chair.  His  lips  moved  with  hers,  but 
it  was  her  voice  which  sang: 


44  Along  the  silent  ways  there  came 
A  troubadour,  a  troubadour, 

"  As  out  of  darkness  shines  a  flame, 

And  in  his  hand  no  harp  he  bore. 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

He  sang  of  Joy  in  overflow, 
He  sang  the  Pain  mankind  must  know, 
And  they  who  listened  to  that  voice 
With  it  did  mourn,  with  it  rejoice." 


He  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant.  "  They  are  one," 
he  said  excitedly,  "  words  and  notes.  You  have 
caught  the  sound.  You  have  expressed  —  my  mean 
ing!  You  have  told  —  my  secret!  —  A  troubadour,  a 
troubadour,  that  is  what  I  am,  a  troubadour,  mas 
querading  as  a  Priest  of  God!  " 

Startled,  confused,  she  drew  back  from  the  instru 
ment  and  looked  up  at  him.  He  was  trembling  from 
head  to  foot. 

"  I  thought  the  work  was  making  me  over,"  he 
panted,  "  I  deceived  myself  ;  I  am  the  same, 
unchanged.  Consecration,  endeavor,  nothing  will 
change  me.  I  could  be  seared  with  hot  irons,  I  could 
be  rent  asunder.  But  it  would  avail  nothing.  Under 
it  all,  under  the  affection  and  sympathy  I  have  had 
for  these  people,  the  desire  to  help,  there  has  been 
something  in  me  -  " 

He  broke  away  abruptly  and  walked  to  the  window. 

She  turned  towards  him    imploringly. 

"  Think,  think  of  the  good  you  have  done  !  "  she 
ejaculated. 

"  What  good  have  I  done?  "  he  demanded,  "what 
real,  permanent,  lasting  good?  What  saloon  have  I 
closed?  What  den  have  I  cleansed?  I'm  'kind,'  I 
6  mean  well,'  I'm  a  '  good  nurse,'  but  —  do  I  convict  the 


PROMETHEUS  273 


sinner?     Do  I  heal  the  broken-hearted?     Have  I  sent 
great    searching    waves    of    penitence    and    resolve 
through  this  unholy  town  ?     No ;  they  come — to  hear 
me  say  startling  things!     They  come — to  hear  me 
sing !  "     He  laughed.     The  bitterness  of  that  laugh ! 
"  Don't,"  she  cried,  "  I  can't  bear  it ! " 
"What  single  life  have  I  renewed?"  he  went  on 
brokenly,  his  face  still  averted.     "  What  one  heart 
have  I  changed? " 

"  Mine,"  she  answered  solemnly.  "  Mine.  Wait, 
there  is  another  verse.  I  have  never  sung  it,  aloud,  but 
I  will  now,  I  will  now.  You  shall  see,  you  shall 
know;  it  shall  be  proved  to  you."  Tremulously, 
catching  her  breath  between  the  words,  but  resolutely, 
she  sang: 

"  But  more  than  this  thou  gavest  me, 

O  troubadour,  O  troubadour ! 
All  that  I  hoped  and  meant  to  be 

Like  flooding  wave  returns  once  more. 
I  take  the  Joy,  I  dare  the  Pain, 
Content  to  be  myself  again. 
Sing  on,  sing  on,  as  God  hath  meant; 
My  heart  shall  be  thy  instrument!" 

With  the  last  word  she  was  on  her  feet,  confronting 
him,  as  he  stood  facing  her. 

Ah,  but  he  was  alive  now,  with  the  life  of  stars  and 
suns  and  wild  meteoric  flames.  All  the  great  vitaliz 
ing  forces  of  the  unseen  were  gathered  into  him.  Pro 
metheus,  indeed,  he  was,  and  no  Apostle — Prome- 


274         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

theus,  with  the  stolen  fire  stored  in  his  own  slender 
body,  a  reed  that  had  been  shaken  by  the  wind. 

His  glowing  eyes  devoured  her.  She  could  feel  the 
tingling  touch  of  his  wonderful  hands,  although  he 
(did  not  stir. 

"  Now,  I  will  be  strong  in  this,"  she  heard  him  say. 
His  voice  thrilled  her  through  and  through.  Never 
in  all  her  life  of  many  passionate  wooings  had  she 
known  anything  like  the  presence,  the  touch,  the 
demand,  the  response.  And  yet  he  had  not  stirred ! 

"He  a  weakling!"  her  heart  exulted.  "He  is 
stronger  than  the  strongest!" 

He  loosed  his  hold,  renounced  her,  with  a  long, 
fluttering  sigh.  "  I  must  go,"  he  said. 

"  I  will  order  the  horses  and  drive  you  home,"  she 
returned,  her  head  high  in  air. 

He  sprang  to  open  the  door  for  her.  The  gesture 
was  one  of  adoration.  She  left  the  room  on  wings. 

It  was  a  relief  to  feel  the  mouths  of  the  spirited 
horses  champing  the  bit  at  the  other  end  of  the  rein. 
Some  tangible,  outward  grasp  of  a  life  that  strove 
and  sped  she  must  have.  And  with  that  vibrant  pulse 
beside  her,  joining  her  to  the  pulse  of  the  universe, 
she  journeyed  like  a  star  through  space.  He  was 
not  a  whit  behind  her  in  keenness  of  realization. 
Everything  had  been  revealed  to  him,  instantly,  with 
out  corner  of  concealment.  He  knew  the  past,  its 
doubts  and  questions,  as  he  knew  himself,  now,  and 
this  woman  beside  him.  Her  hoarded  emotions,  her 


PROMETHEUS  275 

pent-up  energies  flooded  in  on  him  and  filled  him, 
all  his  dry  channels  and  empty  spaces,  singing  as  the 
tide  sings  when  it  invades  the  land.  Hitherto  she 
had  been,  with  his  mother,  representative  of  Woman 
kind.  Now,  he  knew  her,  at  last  and  forever,  The 
Woman. 

At  the  door  of  the  study  he  alighted  and  stood  with 
uncovered  head,  watching  her  drive  away.  Delia? 
What  of  Delia?  Delia  had  chosen  her  own  way.  If 

she  had  not !     Let   the  worlds   crash !     In   the 

midst  of  the  confusion  of  the  spheres,  they  two  would 
have  met  and  mingled. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

A    SURPRISE 

SLEEP  was  out  of  the  question  for  either  of 
these  two  that  night.  Nor,  it  must  be 
acknowledged,  did  either  desire  it.  The 
minutes  were  too  precious.  Every  one  must  be  watched 
and  counted.  The  hour-glass  of  Time  ran  gold. 
They  were  nearer  than  when  they  faced  each  other 
in  Katharine's  little  parlor,  nearer  than  when  they 
sat,  side  by  side,  driving  down  Eureka  streets. 
Timidity,  reserve,  had  vanished  with  physical  con 
ditions.  They  clasped  and  kissed  each  other.  They 
murmured  words  of  blessing  and  endearment.  And 
all  the  while  the  song,  their  song,  went  singing  its 
way  through  heart  and  brain.  "  I  take  the  Joy,  I 
dare  the  Pain!"  Katharine  repeated.  What  pain 
so  great  as  to  be  an  extreme  price  for  such  joy? 

To  Clement  it  seemed  that  he  could  feel  his  body 
lift  from  the  bed  where  it  lay.  At  dawn  he  sprang 
up,  light  as  air,  flung  on  his  clothes,  and,  hurrying 
through  the  study  into  the  church,  sat  down  at  the 
little  cabinet  organ  and  commenced  to  play  and  sing. 
The  small,  sedate  instrument,  which  had  never 
responded  to  any  notes  more  profane  than  those  of 

276 


A    SURPRISE  277 


"  America,"  gave  out  a  peal  of  impassioned  melody 
that  filled  the  church.  The  voice  of  the  singer,  sur 
charged  with  emotion,  thrilled  after  it.  Utterly 
unconscious  was  he  of  anyone's  existence  save  hers 
to  whom  he  sang: 

"Then  take  the  Joy  and  dare  the  Pain, 
Content  to  be  thyself  again! 
And  I  will  sing,  as  God  hath  meant; 
Thy  heart  shall  be  my  instrument ! " 

The  exultant  tones  ceased.  There  was  silence  in 
the  church,  broken  by  a  dry,  ironical  voice  which 
seemed  to  drop  from  the  ceiling. 

"  Is  that  a  hymn  ?  "  it  asked.  Jack  Perry  stood 
in  the  doorway  of  the  study,  regarding  the  singer 
with  a  keen,  searching,  critical  glance. 

"  Not  exactly,"  replied  Clement,  laughing  boy 
ishly.  He  arose  and  stretched  himself,  flinging  his 
long  arms  about  like  a  child  waking  from  his  nap. 
"  Where  on  earth  did  you  come  from,  so  early  in  the 
morning,  Jack?  "  he  inquired  lightly, 

"I'll  tell  you,  bime-by,"  said  Jack  briefly.  "I 
come  over  last  night,  but  your  light  was  out  and  the 
door  locked." 

"  I  went  to  bed  early,"  said  Clement  hurriedly. 
He  was  conscious  of  a  change  in  Jack's  attitude,  a 
widening  of  the  space  between  himself  and  his  friend. 
Was  it  because  Jack  had  heard  him  singing,  in  the 
church,  words  and  music  such  as  no  one  had  ever  heard 


278         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

there  before?  There  is  no  mistaking  the  love-call 
of  the  male  of  any  species.  Did  Jack  detect  the 
exhilaration,  stimulating  every  sense,  giving  power 
to  see,  to  hear,  to  feel  as  never  before? 

Somehow  they  appeared  to  have  changed  places. 
It  was  Jack  who  said,  "  Come  into  the  study," 
Jack  who  put  question  after  question,  his  gray  brows 
bent,  his  steoi-bh-.e  eyes  looking  straight  into  the 
glowing  dark  ones  before  him,  his  jaw  set,  his  lips 
straight  as  a  line. 

"  Where  was  you  born,  Parson  ? "  he  asked 
abruptly. 

"  Gainsborough,  England,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Did  you  live  there  till  you  come  to  this  country  ?  " 

"  There  and  in  London.     What  is  it,  Jack?  " 

"  You  was  livin'  there  last?  "  pursued  the  catechist, 
disregarding  the  uneasiness  of  the  catechumen. 

"  Yes.  Why  do  you  ask?  What  do  you  want  to 
know  ?  Can't  you  ask  me  point-blank  ?  " 

"  No,  by  God,  I  can't,"  groaned  Jack.  "  I  thought 
I  could,  but  I  can't.  I'm  hard  hit."  He  looked  it. 
He  had  aged  since  he  came  into  the  room.  The  lines 
had  deepened  in  his  face.  He  was  haggard  and  worn. 

"  If  it  had  been  anybody  else,"  he  said  with  an 
effort ;  "  I  know — men.  That's  why  I  thought  I 
knew  you.  '  Here,'  says  I,  'is  a  feller  that'll  show 
us  how  the  thing's  done.  Not  that  we'll  ever  get 
where  he  is,  but  we  can  foller  on.'  An'  I've  f ollered — - 
every  step  of  the  way ! " 


A    SURPRISE  279 


"  In  what  way  am  I  different,  now  ?  "  demanded 
Vaughan. 

"  O  Lord !  "  groaned  Jack,  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands. 

Vaughan  said  nothing.  Different!  As  different 
as  light  from  darkness,  as  life  from  death!  It  was 
in  the  strength  of  that  difference  that  he  denied  the 
right  of  the  old  saloon-keeper  to  question  him. 

"  Of  course  we  all  vary  according  to  our  moods," 
he  said  with  dignity.  "  We  cannot  be  forever  on 
the  heights,  at  the  extreme  of  tension.  We  must 
sometimes  descend,  relax." 

His  manner  touched  something  in  Jack  which 
responded  like  cold  iron. 

"  This  hain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with  moods,"  he 
said  curtly.  With  an  effort  he  proceeded :  "  If  any- 
body'd  told  me  day  before  yes'day  that  I'd  be  comin' 
to  you  on  this  kind  of  an  errand,  I'd  blown  his  damn 
brains  out.  Even  last  night  I  was  fixin'  it  up  with 
myself  how  some  things  might  'a'  happened,  blamin' 
everybody  but  you,  but  when  I  come  here  this  mornin* 
and  caught  you  a-singin'  like — any  other  feller,  an' — 
an' — smelt  fire  on  your  clothes! — My  God,  Parson, 
what  are  ye?  "  Jack  stood  up  and  thrust  his  hands 
deep  down  into  his  pockets,  as  if  groping  for  some 
hidden  support.  "  What  are  ye?  "  he  repeated.  "I'd 
'a'  sworn  ye  were  one  o'  them  Prophets  in  the  Wilder 
ness,  sent  by  the  Old  Gentleman,  once  in  a  while,  to 
keep  up  our  courage  and  show  us  the  way  out.  I've 


280         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

swallered  ye  whole,  until  now ;  but  now,  by  the  Eternal, 
you've  got  to  explain !  If  you're  one  o'  them  cusses 
after  women " 

With  an  imperious  gesture  Vaughan  stopped  him. 
"  I  refuse  to  explain !  "  he  said  haughtily.  To  his 
mind  there  wras  but  one  interpretation  of  Jack's  words. 
He  had  seen  the  parson  with  Katharine — had 
divined  the  situation. 

"  All  right,"  said  Jack  grimly,  rising  as  he  spoke, 
"  then  that  Forington  woman,  over  at  McClintock's, 
can  go  ahead  and  'rouse  the  town  if  she  wants  to.  I've 
got  no  more  to  say." 

He  paused  on  his  way  to  the  door,  struck  by  the 
change  in  Vaughan.  He  was  like  a  sleep-walker 
awakened  by  a  sudden  shock. 

"What  did  you  say?"  he  asked.  "A  woman? 
What  is  her  name?  " 

"  Forington,"  said  Jack  distinctly.  "  I  shouldn't 
have  paid  no  attention  to  what  she  said,  although 
she  told  a  straight  enough  story  about  Gainsborough 
and  all,  but  the  boy  bein'  the  image  of  you " 

"  A  boy!  "  stammered  Vaughan. 

"  Yes,  a  yearlin',"  said  Jack  briefly,  "  an'  yours, 
if  I'm  any  judge  of  live-stock;  though  she  says  she 
ain't  nothin'  to  you,  'cept  as  bein'  the  child's  mother, 
and  is  here  on  his  account." 

Vaughan  put  both  hands  to  his  head.  Here  were 
the  worlds  crashing  as  he  had  defied  them  to  do ;  here 
was  the  rocking  of  the  spheres !  Upon  him,  sensi- 


A    SURPRISE  281 


tive  wind-harp,  stretched  to  be  breathed  upon  by  Love, 
came  the  sledge-hammer  blows  of  Fate. 

The  room  reeled,  desk  and  chairs  and  rows  of 
solemn  books  whirled  dizzily  around  him ;  and  in  their 
midst  Jack's  face  looked  out,  small  as  if  seen  through 
the  reversed  end  of  a  telescope.  His  voice  sounded 
faint  and  far  away. 

"  I'm  ready  to  fix  up  things  any  way  you  say. 
I'll  tell  the  folks— what  in  hell  will  I  tell  'em?  " 

Again  the  room  reeled  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
crazy  dance  came  whisperings.  Why  not  let  it  go 
that  way  ?  Let  it  be  as  she  had  said.  She  was  nothing 
to  him  except  as  the  mother  of  the  child!  Ah,  but 
the  child!  His  child!  His  son!  His  lips  stiffened 
as  he  tried  to  answer. 

"  The  woman  is  my  wife,"  he  said  weakly. 

Again  Jack's  voice  sounded,  far  away,  out  of  the 
small,  elfish  face. 

"  You  don't  need  to  lie,  you  know.  She  can  be 
got  off  somehow.  You  can  pervide  for  the  kid.  You 
ain't  obliged  to  saddle  yourself  with  her — nor  him. 
He  can  be  took  away."  The  voice  was  cold  but  not 
unkind.  Jack  meant  to  "  see  the  thing  through." 

Let  her  go,  urged  the  whisperings.  Now,  when 
Paradise  opens  before  you — let  her  go.  You  owe 
that  other  woman  something,  that  woman  with  the 
honest  gray  eyes ! 

But  the  child,  his  child,  his  son !  And  the  right  of 
it,  the  right  of  it — what  was  the  right  of  it? 


282         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Again  the  room  went  around,  and  Jack's  face  grew 
small,  his  voice  faint  and  far  away. 

"  Parson,  you  don't  need  to  bluff  with  me,"  he 
was  saying.  He  drew  near  and  laid  a  great,  kind 
hand  on  Vaughan's  knee. 

"  Oh,  Jack !  Oh,  Jack !  "  cried  the  young  preacher. 
His  head  was  on  the  big,  gray  shoulder,  the  strong, 
gray  arm  was  around  him.  The  whole  story  came 
out  from  beginning  to  end. 

"  Some  of  'em  are  like  that,"  was  Jack's  comment, 
when  he  was  through.  "  Contrary ;  won't  be  druv  nor 
led ;  but  when  you've  let  'em  alone  a  while,  they  come. 
Mebby  she  will.  She  was  pretty  cranky,  last  night. 
If  she  hadn't  a-fell  into  my  hands  yes'day  afternoon 
she'd  hollered  the  whole  thing  all  over  town.  But  I 
made  her  promise  to  keep  still.  I  took  her  to  the 
Widder's  and  told  the  old  gal  to  make  her  comfort 
able.  I  should  a  good  deal  rather  took  her  home,  but 
Lord,  Marthy'd  dug  the  whole  story  out  of  her.  The 
Widder  lets  her  eat  separate  from  the  boarders. 
Well?  "  There  was  a  world  of  interrogation  in  that 
one  monosyllable. 

"I'll  be  ready  to  go  over  there  with  you  in  a 
moment,"  said  Vaughan.  He  rose  unsteadily,  grasp 
ing  at  the  desk. 

"Haven't  et  a  thing,  I'll  bet!"  growled  Jack. 
"  Thought  so.  Set  down.  I'll  make  you  a  cup  of 
coffee  and  bile  you  an  egg.  Set  down,  I  tell  ye.  You 
don't  mind,  wuth  a  cent ! " 


A    SURPRISE  283 


Fortified  by  Jack's  appetizing  luncheon,  offered  on 
the  back  of  an  old  atlas  in  lieu  of  a  tray,  Vaughan 
finished  dressing  and  prepared  to  meet  Delia.  Jack 
watched  every  move,  a  great  and  growing  tender 
ness  added  to  the  old  admiration  which  had  all  come 
back. 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

A  MEETING 

THERE'S  one  thing,"  said  Jack,  as  they 
went  down  the  street  in  the  direction  of 
the  McClintock  boarding-house.  "  She 
see  you  drivin'  in  with  the  Richmond  Hill  woman. 
But  don't  you  say  a  word;  just  let  her  jaw,  if  she 
wants  to.  She'll  get  over  it  quicker,  that  way." 

Mrs.  McClintock  opened  the  door.  It  was  plain 
from  the  expression  of  her  face  that  Delia  had  kept 
her  promise  of  secrecy,  thus  far.  She  ushered  them 
into  what  was  known  as  the  "  front  room,"  while  she 
went  to  speak  to  her  newest  boarder. 

Soon  her  returning  footsteps  were  heard  coming 
down  the  uncarpeted  hall.  There  was  someone  with 
her. 

"  I'll  get  out,"  said  Jack,  and  made  a  hasty  exit. 

Clement  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  his  heart 
beating  violently.  But  the  person  with  Mrs.  McClin 
tock  was  not  Delia.  He  heard  her  say  good-by  and 
go  out.  The  landlady  returned.  "Mrs.  Forington 
says  she'll  be  down  pretty  soon,"  she  announced. 
"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  There  was  but  little  curi 
osity  in  her  manner.  It  was  the  most  natural  thing 

284 


A    MEETING  285 


in  the  world  that  the  Parson  should  come  calling  on 
this  person  who  lived  where  he  did,  at  home. 

Some  minutes  passed.  Vaughan  walked  up  and 
down  the  room.  His  thoughts  were  now  all  with  the 
woman  upstairs,  and  with  the  child.  So  that  was  the 
"  surprise  "  which  Delia  had  in  store  for  him  when 
he  should  come  home  at  Christmas.  Poor  Delia,  how 
indifferent,  how  unsympathetic  she  must  have  thought 
him !  He  had  made  almost  no  reply,  had  instead 
turned  to  the  things  which  interested  him:  his  work, 
his  future,  his  plans.  Much  of  her  perversity  and 
unreasonableness  had  been  no  doubt  due  to  her  con 
dition.  And  now  she  had  come  to  him,  bringing  the 
boy.  He  would  be  very  patient  with  her,  very  gentle. 
One  swift,  sudden  thought  of  Katharine  swept  him 
from  head  to  foot.  It  was  followed  by  an  agony  of 
remorse.  "  God  forgive  me !  "  he  murmured.  "  God 
forgive  me  that  I  forgot!  She  will  forgive  me,  her 
life  is  so  full,  so  rich,  she  is  so  complete  in  herself. 
She  does  not  need  me.  She  thought  I  needed  her — the 
noble,  generous  soul  that  she  is !  " 

Quick  steps  sounded  along  the  hall.  The  door  was 
flung  open.  A  woman  with  a  child  entered.  She 
carried  the  boy  high  on  her  shoulder;  with  one  thin 
little  hand  he  clutched  her  yellow  hair.  She  had 
gained  flesh  and  it  became  her.  Her  figure,  always 
beautiful,  had  rounded  into  matronly  curves.  But 
her  large,  prominent,  blue  eyes  were  hard  and  cold  as 
they  met  his. 


286         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Howdydo,"  she  said,  giving  him  her  hand. 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her,  on  the  cheek — her  lips 
were  resolutely  turned  away.  He  tried  to  take  the 
boy,  but  with  a  fretful  cry  the  child  flung  both  arms 
around  his  mother  and  hid  his  face  in  her  neck.  It 
was  the  first  time  a  child  had  ever  refused  to  come  to 
him.  Clement  bit  his  lip. 

"  That's  your  father,  Hugh,"  exclaimed  Delia 
ironically.  "  Haven't  much  use  for  him,  have  you  ? 
Well,  well! 

"  There,  there,  don't  make  a  fuss ;  you  needn't  go 
to  him  if  you  don't  want  to."  She  seated  herself  in 
a  large  rocking-chair  and  drew  the  boy  to  her  knee. 
He  looked  out  at  Clement  under  a  heavy  dark  lock 
which  tumbled  down  over  his  full,  white  forehead  and 
again  hid  his  face. 

He  was  very  like  his  father,  as  Jack  had  said.  It 
was  strange  that  Mrs.  McClintock  had  not  noticed 
the  resemblance.  His  dark  eyes  were  of  the  same 
color  and  shape ;  the  oval  of  his  face,  the  straight 
nose,  the  sensitive  mouth,  were  the  same. 

Again  Clement  held  out  his  hands.  "  Won't  you 
come  to  me?  "  he  pleaded.  But  Hugh  shook  his  head. 
He  looked  ill ;  there  were  purple  shadows  under  his 
eyes.  His  tiny  fingers  were  like  a  bird's  claws. 

"  He  was  sick,  coming  over,"  said  Delia,  putting 
back  the  lock  of  hair.  "  He  hasn't  gotten  over  it. 
He's  a  healthy  child,  usually."  Her  tone  and  man 
ner  resented  the  criticism  implied  by  Clement's 


A    MEETING  287 


silence.  The  heart  of  the  father  smote  him.  "  He's  a 
fine  little  fellow,"  he  said  gently.  "  Why  didn't  you 
tell  me,  Delia?" 

"  Tell  you  !  "  she  ejaculated;  "  a  woman  doesn't  tell 
such  things  to  those  who  are  not  interested." 

"  Not  interested !  "  He  arose  and  stood  over  her, 
looking  down  on  the  coils  of  yellow  hair.  "  How  did 
you  happen  to  come  alone?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  had  little  Annie  Otter  with  me — old  Annie's 
granddaughter,"  she  answered. 

"  I'm  surprised  that  Richard  and  John  allowed 
it." 

"  My  brothers  didn't  know,"  she  said  briefly.  "  No 
one  knew.  I  went  on  a  visit  to  Cousin  Sarah  and  then 
kept  on.  I  sent  back  word  from  the  steamer." 

Something  very  like  tenderness  went  like  a  warm 
wave  through  him  at  the  thought  of  her  setting  out 
alone  with  the  babe  and  the  small  nursery  maid  on 
such  a  long,  hard  journey.  A  momentary  impulse 
seized  him,  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  bridge  the  gulf 
between  them,  thaw  her,  claim  her,  give  himself  to  her ; 
but  he  could  not.  And  this  was  his  wife !  That  was 
their  child! 

She  glanced  up  at  him  over  her  rounded  shoulder. 
"  Sit  down,  Clem,"  she  said  coldly.  "  There's  no  use 
in  making  a  scene." 

"  But  " — his  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper.  "  It 
is  so — horrible !  " 

"  It's  only  the  natural  outcome,"  she  said  harshly. 


288         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  What  can  a  man  expect  when  he  turns  his  back 
upon  his  own?  I  know  you  don't  see  it  in  that  light. 
You  thought  it  was  your  duty  to  come  over  here  and 
interfere  with  other  people  and  teach  them  their  duty 
— you  and  Mary  Henley !  You  had  a  4  call ' !  Lord, 
what  that  means  to  the  people  who  have  to  step  aside ! 
How  we  sinners  have  to  pay  for  you  saints!"  She 
laughed  scornfully.  He  turned  from  her  and  walked 
to  the  window.  When  he  came  back  he  was  calmer. 
"Why  did  you  send  back  my  letters  unopened?" 
he  asked  reproachfully. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come   yourself  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"I  couldn't  leave  my  work  just  then.  I  didn't 
know " 

"  Couldn't  leave  your  work !  "  she  cried.  "  You'd 
have  found  a  way  to  leave  it  if  you'd  loved  me.  A 
man  may  say  what  he  pleases  about  his  work,  the 
woman  he  loves  can  always  take  him  away  from  it. 
You  never  cared  for  me,  Clem,  or  else " 

"  Or  else — what?     Go  on,"  he  urged. 

"  Or  else  you're  something  I'd  rather  not  call  you," 
she  said  slowly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked ;  but  he  knew 
before  she  answered,  still  speaking  slowly,  with  a 
weight  on  every  word.  "  I  mean  that  I  saw  you  driv 
ing  with  that  woman  yesterday.  You  don't  need  to 
affirm  or  deny  anything.  I  know.  A  woman  always 
knows,  if  she  has  lived  with  a  man." 

There  was  silence  in  the  room.     The  dinner-bell 


A    MEETING  289 

jingled  noisily.  The  tramp  of  the  boarders  coming 
in  could  be  heard  on  the  bare  floors  outside.  The 
child  nestled  on  his  mother's  knee.  She  tried  to 
quiet  him,  but  there  was  no  tenderness  in  her  touch. 
With  a  fierce,  insisting  movement  Clement  caught 
him  from  her.  The  boy  screamed  and  struck  at  him, 
fighting  like  a  little,  wild,  frightened  animal.  Delia 
laughed  and  held  out  her  arms. 

"  You'd  better  let  us  go,"  she  said  roughly.  "  You 
can't  do  anything  with  us." 

"Go — where?  "  he  asked,  bewildered. 

"  I  don't  doubt  you'd  be  well  pleased  to  be  rid  of 
us,"  she  pursued. 

He  drew  up  his  chair  beside  her  and  took  her  hand. 
She  pulled  it  away. 

"Delia,  what  do  you  mean  to  do?"  he  exclaimed 
in  despair. 

"  I  don't  know — yet,"  she  answered  rebelliously. 
"  I  came  here  to  find  out.  I  wanted  to  see  how  you 
felt;  and  I  wanted  to  see  how  I  felt.  I  came  over  in 
the  steamer  as  Mrs.  Clement  Vaughan,  but  when  I 
saw  you  with  that  woman,  I  said  again — I  was  no 
wife  of  yours.  I  said  it  to  your  friend  who  was  there 
on  the  corner.  He  made  me  promise  not  to  say 
anything  to  anyone  else  till  I'd  seen  you.  Well — I've 
seen  you."  She  laughed. 

Again  he  took  her  hand  and  again  she  drew  it  away. 
"  We're  not  either  of  us,  Hugh  or  I,  just  what  you 
want,"  she  said  bluntly.  "  But  how  can  we  be?  We 


290        THE    SAGE   BRUSH   PARSON 

were  left  to  ourselves.  You  can't  get  what  you  want 
if  you  don't  put  what  you  want  into  it." 

"  That  isn't  the  question,"  he  returned  quickly. 
"  I  might  say  the  same.  I'm  not  what  you  want. 
I'm  quite  well  aware  of  that.  If  you  had  loved  me 
you  would  have  made  an  effort  to  get  to  me." 

She  looked  at  him,  then  shook  her  head.  "Oh, 
that's  not  the  same  at  all,"  she  said,  but  she  made  no 
attempt  to  explain  why. 

He  leaned  forward,  regarding  her  earnestly.  What 
was  it  that  had  drawn  and  held  him  in  the  old  days? 
She  gazed  back  at  him,  asking  herself  the  same 
question.  A  little  flutter  of  the  eyelids,  a  slight 
quiver  of  the  lip  betrayed  that,  in  her,  at  least,  emo 
tion  was  not  all  dead.  He  saw,  and  she  knew  that  he 
saw,  and  hated  herself  and  him. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  What  can  I  do,  without  your  cooperation  ?  "  he 
returned.  "  I  could  take  a  house ;  my  income  has 
increased  sufficiently  to  warrant  that,  now " 

"  Stay  here?  "  she  exclaimed.     "  Never !  " 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do,  desert  these  people, 
discontinue  my  work ?  " 

"  Your  work,  your  work,  forever  your  work ! " 
she  interposed.  "  A  house  of  cards.  I  could  blow 

it  down  with  a  breath "  She  blew,  as  if  upon  the 

structure  she  described,  and  there  was  a  malevolent 
look  in  her  eyes  as  if  she  saw  it  tumble. 

"  Would  you  do  that?  "  he  asked. 


A   MEETING  291 


"  I  would,"  she  answered.  "  See  here,  Clement 
Vaughan,  we  may  as  well  come  to  the  point.  If  you'll 
go  back  to  England  with  me,  I'll  let  bygones  be 

bygones.  If  you  won't "  She  paused  and  looked 

him  over,  from  the  masses  of  dark  hair  through  which 
her  fingers  had  strayed  in  the  days  of  their  "  sweet- 
hearting  "  to  the  sensitive  lips  her  own  lips  had 
pressed,  and  a  spasm  of  womanly  feeling  wrung  her. 
"  Clem,"  she  whispered,  "  go  back  with  me !  " 

"  Go  back,  and  leave  the  little  church,  the  little 
flock,  the  stir,  the  struggle,  the  conquest?  Go  back 
to  a  smug,  comfortable,  effortless,  irksome  existence? 
I  can't,  Delia,  I  can't,"  he  said  piteously.  "  You 
will  like  it  here ;  everyone  does,  after  a  while." 

"  /  shouldn't,"  she  said  coldly.  And  he  knew  that 
she  spoke  the  truth. 

"  And  you  wouldn't  like  it,  if  I  was  here  with  you," 
she  added.  This,  alas,  was  also  true.  The  chafing, 
the  complaint,  the  lack  of  sympathy,  the  outward 
rebellion,  he  could  foresee  them ;  he  knew  Delia,  knew 
what  she  would  do. 

"  I  know  why  you  won't  go,"  she  said,  in  a  hard, 
rasping  voice.  "It's  because  of  that  woman;  you 
won't  leave  her.  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  Clement 
Vaughan :  if  I  don't  have  you,  I'll  spoil  you  for  any 
one  else.  Tell  that  friend  of  yours  I  said  so.  I 
promised  him  I  wouldn't  say  anything  till  I'd  seen 
you.  That's  off,  now!  "  She  arose  and  lifted  the 
child  to  her  shoulder. 


292         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Pleased  at  the  escape  from  what  had  been  to  him 
a  most  uninteresting  interview,  and  hungry  for  his 
dinner,  the  little  fellow  stretched  out  his  thin,  white 
hand  in  token  of  farewell.  "  By-by ! "  he  called 
shrilly.  "  By-by !  " 

Vaughan  watched  them  mechanically  as  the  door 
opened  and  closed  upon  them — his  wife  and  child,  his 
wife  and  child! 

He  found  his  way  back  to  the  study  and  sat  there, 
drained  of  all  strength  and  confidence,  as  he  had  been 
before,  by  this  same  influence.  That  was  why  he 
had  shirked  it!  Was  this  not  an  excuse,  a  pal 
liation? 

And  the  other — it  crept  softly  back  upon  him; 
the  tingle  of  the  senses,  the  rapture  of  communion. 
With  them  came  the  conviction  of  wrong,  and,  to  his 
horror  and  surprise,  intensified  the  charm !  For  the 
first  time,  the  thought  of  Katharine  Chisholm,  of 
her,  the  bright  shining  one,  was — a  temptation ! 

He  turned  from  side  to  side,  like  a  wild  thing 
caught  in  a  snare.  The  life  into  which  he  was  born, 
the  habits  of  austerity,  of  renunciation,  of  sacrifice, 
to  which  he  had  been  trained,  which  he  had  voluntarily 
assumed,  strove  with  that  other  inheritance  of  an 
earlier  generation,  the  abandon,  the  delirium. 

"  O  God ! "  he  cried ;  but  it  was  as  Lucifer  might 
have  cried,  in  vain,  rebellious  protest. 

Did  they  feel  like  this,  the  men  whom  he  had  so 
lightly  condemned?  Was  the  unlawful  to  them  a 


A    MEETING  293 


thing  to  defy  Heaven  for,  to  risk  Hell?     Then  why 
call  on  God? 

Jack's  question  recurred  to  him,  "  What  are  ye^ 
Parson?  "  What  was  he  indeed?  No  saint,  for  all 
his  strivings  and  prayers,  his  deeds  of  charity,  his 
hours  of  holiness,  but  a  man,  swayed  by  passion, 
subject  to  temptation,  a  bruised  reed,  smoking  flax! 
But  the  bruised  reed  would  not  be  broken,  the  smoking 
flax  would  not  be  quenched — with  every  temptation 
was  promised  the  way  of  escape !  He  must,  he  would 
find  it! 


CHAPTER   XXX 

EUBEKA    CHANGES    FBONT 

THERE  never  was  anything  quite  so  home 
sick  and  forlorn  as  Annie  Otter.  She  had 
cried  until  her  little  peaked  nose  was  as  pink 
as  the  raspberries  growing  in  her  grandmother's 
garden  at  home;  her  bulging  blue  eyes  looked  as  if 
they  had  been  stitched  in  with  red  worsted.  "  H'I'm 
goin'  back  'ome,"  she  confided  to  the  yellow  dog,  him 
self  a  stranger  in  town,  left  behind  by  one  of  the 
boarders,  possibly  as  hostage  for  the  board-money 
still  owed  to  Mrs.  McClintock. 

The  yellow  dog  nestled  against  her  skirts.  He 
knew  what  it  was  to  be  homesick  and  forlorn.  He 
looked  sympathy  and  commiseration  out  of  his  cinna 
mon-brown  eyes,  and  whined.  They  two  were  on  the 
back  stoop,  awaiting  the  last  call  to  dinner,  while 
Annie's  mistress  talked  with  her  man,  who  wasn't  her 
man  any  more;  neither  was  Annie  to  call  her  by  his 
name — when  they'd  come  all  this  way  to  find  him! 
Oh,  it  was  dreadful,  and  shocking,  and  impossible  to 
be  borne !  "  H'I'm  goin'  back  'ome,"  said  Annie 
Otter. 

The  boarders   clattered  out  and  down  the  front 

294 


EUREKA  CHANGES  FRONT    295 

steps.  One  or  two  of  the  younger  men  called  across 
the  yard  to  her : 

"  Hi  there,  Posy !  " 

"  Don't  cry,  Sissy.     'Tain't  as  bad  as  it  looks  !  " 

"  Wait  till  the  clouds  roll  by,  Mamie !  " 

Annie  Otter  bolted  for  the  kitchen,  the  yellow  dog 
at  her  heels,  and  collided  with  Mrs.  McClintock  on 
the  way  to  the  back  stoop. 

"Did  Mrs.  Vaughan  send  f'me?  "  Annie  asked, 
then  clapped  both  hands  over  her  mouth. 

"  The  Widder  "  j  umped.  She  had  heard  agitated 
voices  in  the  front  room,  had  divined  that  this  was 
no  ordinary  call,  but  such  a  revelation  went  beyond 
the  wildest  conjecture. 

"  No,  Mrs.  Vaughan's  still  a-talkin'  with  him,"  she 
said  cunningly.  "  S-sh — don't  say  a  word.  The  rest 
of  'em  ain't  to  know." 

Annie's  look  of  wretchedness  changed  to  one  of 
relief.  It  was  such  a  comfort  to  have  someone  else 
in  the  secret !  A  secret  unshared  is  the  most  hopeless 
form  of  solitary  confinement.  "Baby  there,  too?" 
she  queried. 

"  Course !  "  replied  Mrs.  McClintock.  "  His 
f ather'd  want  to  see  him. — There,  he's  a-goin',  now !  " 
She  scuttled  away  in  the  direction  of  the  front  room. 
Her  heart  was  in  her  throat,  but  if  it  choked  her,  she 
must  avail  herself  of  the  opportunity  that  Fate  had 
put  into  her  hands.  There  was  still  that  old  score 
over  Dick  Dale  to  be  wiped  out,  to  say  nothing  of 


296         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

the  countless  occasions  when  the  Parson  had  shown 
his  dislike  of  her  and  his  contempt.  She  hurried  into 
the  hall.  Delia  was  already  halfway  up  the  stairs 
with  the  child.  The  Parson  had  gone ;  he  had 
escaped,  but  his  wife  was  at  her  mercy. 

"What's  your  hurry?"  she  called  familiarly. 
"  Why  didn't  ye  ask  your  husband  to  stay  and  eat 
dinner  with  ye?  " 

Delia  looked  down  over  the  bannister.  Her  face 
was  white.  Should  she  deny  her  true  relationship  to 
Vaughan  before  this  woman?  Whiter  yet  she  grew, 
but  she  did  not  speak. 

"  Ye  oughter  kep  yer  husband  to  eat  with  ye ! " 
repeated  the  landlady. 

Tell  that  hard-featured,  mocking  creature  that  she 
was  not  Clement  Vaughan's  wife?  Impossible! 

"  He  was  in  a  hurry  this  noon.  He  will  be  in 
again,  later,"  she  said  loftily,  and,  wrapping  her 
dignity  of  married-womanhood  about  her,  went  on 
to  her  room. 

Very  soon  after  she  had  entered  it  there  came  a 
tap  at  the  door.  "  I  don't  wanter  entrewed,"  said 
Mrs.  McClintock,  entering,  "  but  I  was  thinkin' 
p'r'aps  you'd  like  somethin'  different  for  dinner.  The 
rest  of  us  had  pigs'  feet."  She  seated  herself  in  a 
rocking-chair  and  rocked  to  and  fro. 

"  It  makes  very  little  difference  what  I  have," 
snapped  Delia,  "so  I  am  allowed  to  eat  it  alone  and 
in  peace.  Tell  Annie  to  bring  the  baby's  milk,  and 


EUREKA  CHANGES  FRONT    297 

a  cracker,  and  be  quick  about  it!"  She  opened  the 
door  into  the  hall. 

"  My,  but  she's  a  Tartar ! "  commented  the  land 
lady,  descending  the  stairs.  "  I  guess  he's  got  his 
dose,  all  right,  without  any  help  from  me." 

She  found  Annie  and  delivered  her  over  to  her 
mistress,  to  be  dealt  with  as  Delia  saw  good,  then 
threw  a  shawl  over  her  head  and  went  out  the  back 
way  through  the  alley  to  Mag  Reddy's. 

To  her,  with  voluble  comments  upon  the  story,  she 
handed  the  torch.  Mag  handed  it  to  Billy,  her  man. 
Billy  took  it  to  Jackson's  saloon.  Before  midnight 
the  conflagration  had  spread  from  the  Geiger  Grade 
to  Richmond  Hill. 

It  was  Mrs.  Wellman  who  ignited  Miss  Emmeline, 
seeking  her  out  for  that  purpose  as  she  sat  alone 
in  the  library,  reading.  Katharine  was  in  her  own 
room,  playing  softly  to  herself  on  the  piano.  The 
rest,  save  the  children,  who  were  in  bed,  had  gone 
to  one  of  the  infrequent  dramatic  performances  given 
by  traveling  companies  in  the  town  hall. 

"  I  never  was  so  upset  in  all  my  days,"  said  Mrs. 
Wellman,  when  she  had  repeated  what  Mr.  Morgan 
said  that  Mrs.  Barker  said  that  Mrs.  Jackson  said 
her  husband  told  her.  "  And  Shed's  out  of  town,  as 
he  always  is  when  there's  anything  going  on.  I  just 
had  to  talk  to  somebody,  so  I  come  over  here. — Shed 
fairly  worships  the  ground  that  man  walks  on. — I 
don't  know  what  on  earth  the  church'll  do.  I  sup- 


298         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

pose  it'll  go  to  pieces  again. — The  Superintendent  of 
Missions'll  have  to  take  it  up.  He  sent  him  here." 

"  Has  anybody  seen  her?  "  asked  Miss  Emmeline, 
in  hushed,  awed  tones.  "  The  woman,  I  mean." 

"  Mrs.  Morgan  thinks  she  saw  her,  the  day  she 
came,  standin'  on  the  corner  in  front  of  Jack  Perry's 
saloon,  talkin'  with  him,  with  the  child  in  her  arms. 
Just  think,  a  child!  " 

"  But  if  she's  his  wife "  suggested  Miss  Emme 
line  tamely. 

"  But  they  say  she  ain't,"  exclaimed  the  visitor. 
"  First,  she  said  she  was,  then  she  said  she  wasn't. 
Anyhow  it  looks  queer,  his  not  saying  a  word  all  this 
time." 

"Yes,  it  does,"  said  Miss  Emmeline.  The  vague 
doubts  and  suspicions  which  the  young  preacher  had 
aroused  in  her  upon  his  arrival  returned. 

No  wonder  he  made  her  feel  queer.  What  would 
Katharine  say?  She  listened  absent-mindedly,  while 
Mrs.  Wellman  went  on  repeating  gossip,  hearsay,  and 
supposition.  Now  and  then  she  interjected  a  sym 
pathetic  or  encouraging  exclamation. 

"  I  must  go ! "  said  Mrs.  Wellman  at  length. 
Miss  Emmeline  watched  her  down  the  steps,  off  into 
the  velvety  October  darkness.  There  was  a  damp, 
unwholesome  odor  of  decaying  vegetation  in  the  air. 
Her  delicate  nostrils  quivered  before  it.  It  somehow 
seemed  related  to  the  story  she  had  heard,  an  atmos 
phere  to  be  avoided,  to  guard  one's  self  against.  She 


EUREKA  CHANGES  FRONT    299 

instinctively  laid  about  her  for  a  protecting  counter- 
influence.  Katharine  ought  to  know,  anyway.  She 
tiptoed  across  the  hall  and  rapped  at  the  door  of  the 
little  sitting-room. 

Katharine  sat  before  the  piano,  dreamily  fingering 
the  keys.  Her  heart  had  been  filled  with  strange, 
changing  emotions  since  dawn.  The  sleepless  night, 
the  intoxicating  consciousness  of  a  presence  that  en 
folded  and  claimed  her,  had  carried  her  through  the 
morning  hours  in  a  sort  of  rapturous  dream.  Then 
had  come  the  reaction,  the  loss  of  the  presence.  She 
had  dropped  to  the  hard  earth,  filled  with  vague 
terrors,  questions,  doubts.  In  this  mood  she  had 
wandered  about  all  day  and  had  finally  turned  to  the 
little  song  for  comfort  and  support. 

"  I  take  the  Joy,  I  dare  the  Pain !  /  dare  the 
Pain!"  she  had  sung  over  and  over  to  herself.  Of 
course  there  must  be  pain,  there  must  be  hurt ;  nothing 
so  great  as  this  could  be  had  without  a  price.  Life 
was  life,  the  world  was  the  world. 

"He  sang  the  Pain  mankind  must  know."  Was 
he  suffering  now,  as  she  suffered?  There  was  comfort 
in  the  thought;  that,  too,  induced  companionship, 
brought  him  near. 

The  rap  at  the  door  aroused  her.  She  turned  wide, 
startled  eyes  upon  her  sister  as  Emmeline  entered. 

"  Did  you  say  '  Come  in  '  ?  I  wasn't  sure,"  Emme 
line  began  plaintively,  then  plunged  at  once  into  the 
middle  of  her  tale.  "  Oh,  Katharine,  I  don't  know  what 


300          THE  SAGE  BRUSH  PARSON 

you'll  say!  I  have  such  a  dreadful  piece  of  news  for 
you !  Something  perfectly  awful  has  happened !  " 

Katharine  sprang  to  her  feet,  recalling  her  fore 
bodings.  "What  has  happened?"  she  cried.  "Is 
anyone  hurt — dead?  "  One  never  knew  what  might 
happen  in  Eureka. 

"  Worse  than  that ! "  returned  Miss  Emmeline 
solemnly.  She  seated  herself  in  a  straightbacked 
chair,  herself  as  straight  and  unconforming. 
"  Katharine,  you  know  I  never  did  believe  in  that  man 
as  you  did!" 

"  You  mean  Mr.  Vaughan,"  said  Katharine.  She 
resumed  her  seat  at  the  piano.  Here  were  more  pre 
posterous  stories,  evidently.  u  Has  Mr.  Haverford 
been  here?  No?  Mr.  Winslow,  perhaps?  Who  has 
been  so  kind  as  to  bring  you  the  latest  gossip  about 
Mr.  Vaughan?" 

"  You  won't  speak  like  that  when  I  tell  you  what 
Mrs.  Wellman  said.  Yes,  it  was  Mrs.  Wellman  her 
self  who  told  me.  She  got  it  from  the  Morgans,  who 
heard  it  direct  from  Mrs.  Barker,  and  she  heard  it 
from " 

"  Never  mind  whom  she  heard  it  from,"  interrupted 
Katharine  impatiently.  "  What  did  she  hear?  " 

"  She  heard,"  said  Miss  Emmeline,  dragging  her 
words  out  with  irritating  deliberation,  "  that  a 
woman  and  child  have  come  out  to  him  from  where  he 
lived  in  England "  she  paused. 

Every  particle  of  color  had  left  the  bright  face 


EUREKA  CHANGES  FRONT    301 

before  her.  Only  the  eyes,  black  with  intensity  of 
emotion,  transfixed  her  where  she  sat.  "  A  woman? 
And  a  child?  "  repeated  Katharine. 

"  Yes,  a  woman  and  a  child.  First  she  said  she 
wasn't  his  wife  and  then  she  said  she  was.  Anyway, 
he's  been  to  see  her,  at  the  McClintock  boarding- 
house;  was  there  for  hours,  this  very  morning " 

"  This  very  morning?  "  repeated  Katharine.  This 
very  morning,  when  she  had  dreamed  herself  into  his 
arms ! 

"  And  the  child,  everyone  says,  is  the  image 
of  him.  The  woman  is  quite  good-looking,  a  blonde," 
finished  Aunt  Emmeline.  "  To  think  that  I've  let  that 
man  hold  my  hand  and  go  to  sleep  the  way  he  did !  " 

Katharine  laughed,  a  wild,  hysterical  laugh,  then 
drew  a  long,  sobbing  breath. 

"  Emmeline,"  she  said  sternly,  "  did  Mrs.  Well- 
man  feel  sure — that  this " 

"  Sure?  Do  you  suppose  Mrs.  Wellman,  of  all 
women  in  the  world,  would  come  over  here,  all  upset 
as  she  was,  if  the  story  wasn't  true?  You  know  how 
the  Wellmans  have  felt  about  him.  She  was  wild! — 
Don't  look  like  that,  Katharine  !  I  should  think  you'd 
be  glad  you'd  found  him  out.  Don't  look  like  that !  " 

"  How  do  I  look  ?  "  asked  Katharine. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you — as  if  you  had  lost  every 
thing."  Miss  Emmeline  stretched  out  her  small, 
jeweled  hands  in  protest. 

"  I  have,"  said  Katharine,  speaking  as  if  to  some- 


302         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

one  far  away,  out  of  sight ;  "  lost  everything,  all  faith 
in  God  and  man.  I  have  said  of  him,  '  He  makes  me 
believe  in  the  Immaculate  Conception.  He  is  what 
Christ  would  have  been  with  a  human  father.  His 
is  the  realization  of  the  sins  of  the  world  which  he  can 
not  take  away,  the  burden  of  the  sorrow  of  the  world 
with  which  he  is  afflicted  and  which  he  cannot 
remove!  He  bears  in  his  body  the  marks  of  human 
suffering.  He  is  one  of  those  on  whom  the  stigmata 
are  to  be  found.  They  are  in  his  face,  his  manner, 
the  intonations  of  his  voice '  " 

Here  Miss  Emmeline,  who  had  broken  in,  every 
now  and  then,  upon  the  impassioned  words,  with  little 
cries  of  expostulation,  cried  out :  "  Katharine,  I  beg 
of  you,  don't  blaspheme!  " 

"  Is  it  blasphemy  to  tell  the  truth? "  inquired 
Katharine,  still  speaking  in  that  far-away,  dreaming 
voice.  "  I'm  only  saying  it  because  I  must  say  it  to 
someone.  And  you  won't  tell;  you  won't  even  take 
it  in." 

"  Of  course  I  won't  tell,"  said  Miss  Emmeline  with 
energy.  "  I  wouldn't  for  the  world  have  anyone  know 
that  you  ever  said  such  things !  How  you  ever 
thought  them  is  more  than  I  can  comprehend.  But 
you  always  did  have  such  an  imagination !  " 

Katharine  turned  away  with  an  impatient  gesture. 
"  Would  you  mind  very  much,  Emmeline,"  she  said 
with  an  effort,  "  if  I  asked  you  to  go  to  bed  now  and 
leave  me  alone?  " 


EUREKA  CHANGES  FRONT    303 

"  Why,  no,"  said  her  sister  amiably.  "  There 
come  Arthur  and  Mabel  and  Ned." 

She  hurried  out  into  the  hall.  Katharine  could 
hear  her  exclaim  and  question,  could  hear  Arthur's 
low  reply.  Emmeline  had  asked  him  if  he  knew.  He 
had  answered  yes.  They  all  went  into  the  room 
opposite  for  a  consultation.  They  were  asking 
Emmeline  how  she,  Katharine,  "  took  it."  They 
would  wonder  what  to  say  to  her  or  if  they  should 
ignore  the  topic  altogether.  She  would  have  to  meet 
them  in  the  morning,  knowing  that  they  knew,  and 
they  would  know  that  she  knew.  And  there  was  so 
much  more  behind  which  they  did  not  know,  but  of 
which  she  would  be  conscious :  her  blind  faith,  her 
unqualified  surrender,  her  agony  of  humiliation. 

Why  did  he  not  tell  her,  if  the  woman  was  his 
wife?  Was  she  his  wife? 

Why  did  he — lie — what  had  he  done?  She  had 
taken  the  initiative,  from  the  time  he  brought  Elsie 
home.  From  beginning  to  end  it  had  been  her  doing, 
hers  alone.  He  had  even  evaded  her.  She  had  fol 
lowed,  invited,  encouraged,  overwhelmed  him.  She 
would  have  made  him  a  king  in  the  dazzled  eyes  of 
Eureka:  instead  he  was  to  be — scorned  here,  sneered 
at  there — she  saw  it  all  plainly.  His  name  would 
become  a  byword,  a  jest,  in  the  saloons  and  dance- 
halls  and  dens:  not  that  his  experience  was  a  new 
thing  to  them,  but  because  of  the  high  stand  he  had 
taken. 


304         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

He  could  not  meet  it,  he  must  not.  There  was  no 
tact,  no  resource  that  could  combat  such  a  condition. 
He  could  not — not  now — outwit,  overcome  his 
enemies;  charm,  convince  his  friends.  He  must  go 
away. 

Would  he?  It  was  not  like  him.  It  was  more  like 
him  to  stay  in  the  changed  Eureka,  a  coarse,  cruel 
Eureka,  a  place  he  had  not  known  till  now.  Through 
all  the  indignation  and  hurt  and  soreness  which  filled 
her  crept  unnamed  terrors,  apprehending  tragedies 
to  come. 

The  man  through  whom  she  had  been  humiliated 
and  wounded  went  obstinately  on,  as  she  had  foreseen 
that  he  would  do,  making  his  daily  morning  call  upon 
his  wife  and  child,  pleading  with  the  woman,  coaxing 
the  child.  Sometimes  they  seemed  on  the  point  of 
yielding.  The  woman  softened,  the  child  smiled. 
Then,  with  a  common  impulse,  they  turned  their 
backs  on  him.  He  no  longer  attempted  to  study  or 
write.  Each  day  was  begun  with  uncertainty,  ended 
with  dismay. 

He  was  weakening,  Delia  saw  plainly.  Another 
turn  of  the  screw  and  the  thing  would  be  done.  When 
she  had  him  safely  back  in  England  she  would  be 
"  good  "  to  him.  He  was  already  beginning  to  see 
this  place  through  her  eyes. 

It  was  indeed  a  different  Eureka  that  he  saw.  He 
no  longer  went  gayly  forth  to  meet  it,  amused  by  its 


EUREKA  CHANGES  FRONT    305 

crudities,  tolerant  of  its  faults,  welcoming  its  whim 
sical  advances,  touched  by  its  unexpected  kindness. 

The  crudities  were  coarse,  brutal  even.  The 
faults  paraded  themselves  openly ;  and  there  were  no 
advances,  the  kindnesses  had  ceased.  Eureka  had 
changed  front.  When  it  dealt  with  him  at  all,  it  was 
roughly,  familiarly,  in  a  manner  very  different  from 
its  former  obsequiousness. 

Well,  what  of  that?  He  was  no  better  than  other 
men;  he  asked  no  better  treatment.  He  had  never 
demanded  homage  to  "  the  cloth."  He  was  willing 
to  be  judged  as  a  man.  That  they  should  forget 
how  he  had  served  them,  night  and  day,  at  any  cost, 
with  prodigal  expenditure  of  strength  and  time — 
ah,  well,  let  it  go.  He  had  not  asked  for  apprecia 
tion  or  gratitude.  There  was  the  thing  to  be  done 
and  he  had  done  it. 

But  it  was  hard  that  the  only  places  in  town  where 
he  now  felt  at  home  were  the  little  church  with  the 
study  where  he  slept,  when  he  slept  at  all,  and  the 
McClintock  boarding-house,  where  Delia  continued 
to  conduct  her  experiments. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

A    CALL    FROM    THE    SUPERINTENDENT    OF    MISSIONS 

IT  was  pitiful  to  see  the  little  church  go  down. 
The  first  Sunday  the  Morgans  stayed  away; 
the  next,  Mrs.  Wellman  and  Tom  and  Maud. 
After  that,  most  of  the  women  dropped  out.  Shed 
kept  on.  So  did  Jo  and  Tim  Noonan  and  the 
other  miners.  So  did  Dick.  Jack  came  more 
regularly  than  ever.  Barker  manifested  a  sudden 
zeal  which  was  evidently  designed  to  atone  for 
the  absence  of  his  daughter  Louise  from  the 
organ.  There  was  no  one  else  who  could  play,  so 
the  preacher  became  again  the  organist,  as  during 
the  first  Sundays  after  his  arrival. 

He  appeared  not  to  notice  the  dwindling  of  his 
congregation.  His  cheerfulness  and  patience  were 
indefatigable.  He  continued  to  preach  with  fervor, 
to  pray  as  if  speaking  to  One  who  heard  him; 
and  he  sang  with  a  melancholy  sweetness  which 
brought  moisture  to  the  eyes  of  more  than  one  of  the 
rough  men  present. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  even  these  pitifully  few 
adherents  lessened.  Shed  was  obliged  to  go  away 

306 


A  CALL  FROM  THE  SUPERINTENDENT  307 

on  business.  This  was  early  in  November.  The  tenth 
of  November  the  Superintendent  of  Missions  was  due, 
on  his  annual  visitation. 

He  had  left  Eureka  till  almost  the  end  of  the  tour, 
promising  there  to  comfort  himself  for  the  disap 
pointments  and  discouragements  encountered  else 
where.  He  had  been  kept  informed  by  Frank  Henley, 
until  within  the  past  six  weeks,  on  the  subjects  which 
Vaughan  was  too  modest  to  mention ;  had  been  told  of 
the  "  dare,"  of  the  debate,  of  other  victories  achieved 
by  Vaughan.  He  stopped  at  Galena  on  his  way,  but 
Frank  confessed  he  had  heard  nothing  from  Clement 
for  over  a  month. 

"  I  haven't  even  had  a  Sentinel  from  him,"  said 
Frank.  "  I'd  promised  Mary  to  go  over  if  I  didn't 
hear  soon.  Tell  him  so.  Tell  him  I'll  be  over,  some 
time  next  week." 

"  I'll  do  so,"  said  the  Superintendent,  and  rode  off 
into  the  gray  autumnal  landscape.  It  seemed  to  open 
and  close  upon  him.  Over  him  brooded  a  dull  sky. 
Around  him  the  outlines  of  the  mountains  were  dis 
solved  into  soggy  masses,  without  form  or  strength. 
From  an  indistinguishable  hiding-place  in  their  dark 
sides  emerged  a  band  of  coyotes  that  followed  him, 
at  a  respectful  distance  but  near  enough  to  give  him 
an  uncomfortable  sense  of  being  watched  and 
shadowed. 

The  gray  of  the  sage  brush  was  grayer  than  its 
wont.  The  rain  had  made  the  roads  heavy.  Where 


SOS         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

he  crossed  the  alkali  flats  every  footprint  of  his  horse 
filled  with  the  ooze  of  the  hideous,  yellow  alkali 
water. 

John  Harman  was  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  resist 
the  somber  influences  of  the  day  and  the  scene. 
Wherever  he  had  been  he  had  found  aff airs  in  a  more 
than  usually  depressing  condition.  One  preacher 
drank,  another  was  lazy.  Most  of  his  missioners  were 
men  of  conscience ;  but  they  were  not  men  of  ability. 
The  shrewdness,  the  snap,  the  endurance  seemed  to  be 
all  enlisted  on  the  other  side. 

Thank  Heaven  there  was  Vaughan!  Would  that 
there  were  more  like  him !  Some  of  the  younger  men 
must  be  sent  down  to  Eureka  to  see  how  Vaughan  did 
his  work.  Eureka  could  be  handed  over  to  one  of 
these  neophytes  and  Vaughan  could  be  sent  to  start 
another  mission.  There  should  be  one  at  Elko.  He 
would  talk  the  matter  over  with  Vaughan  and  see 
what  he  thought. 

It  was  afternoon  when  he  drove  up  Richmond  Hill 
and  halted  at  the  Wellmans',  where  he  always  stayed. 
Tom  and  Maud  ran  out  to  meet  him;  their  mother 
followed  slowly. 

She  was  a  tall,  angular  woman  of  New  England 
ancestry.  Shed,  who  was  born  in  the  Middle  West, 
declared  "  that  was  all  that  ailed  her."  When  she 
had  scruples  and  convictions,  or,  as  he  said,  "  bore 
down"  he  would  exclaim  "  There  you  go,  Sarah ! 
Plymouth  Rode!  I'd  have  it  cut  out!"  But  she 


A  CALL  FROM  THE  SUPERINTENDENT  309 

was  a  good  woman,  a  kind  woman,  and  upon  that  very 
foundation-stone  of  her  character  which  was  some 
times  a  stone  of  stumbling  to  her  easy-going  hus 
band  he  leaned  perpetually.  The  only  time  of  weak 
ening  he  had  ever  known  in  her  was  when  she  had 
learned,  during  his  absence,  of  the  advent  of  the 
woman  and  child  from  England,  and  in  her  per 
plexity  and  worry  had  flung  herself  and  her  confi 
dences  upon  Miss  Sinclair. 

"  It  warn't  a  bit  like  her,"  he  mused.  "  She  must 
have  been  pretty  well  upset." 

Her  demeanor,  to-day,  when  she  met  the  Superin 
tendent,  showed  that  she  was  not  yet  mistress  of  her 
self.  He  noticed  it,  being  in  the  habit  of  noticing 
the  mental  condition  of  those  he  had  to  deal  with,  but 
attributed  it  to  anxiety  over  the  burden  of  entertain 
ing  him  during  Wellman's  absence.  This  was  indeed 
the  subject  of  her  first  comment. 

"  It  does  seem,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  as  if  Shed  was 
always  out  of  town  when  folks  come.  He  says  he'll 
be  back  to-night.  You'll  stay  over  night?"  Reas 
sured  on  this  score,  her  mind  reverted  to  the  other 
topic,  never  far  from  her  consciousness :  "  He's 
always  away  when  things  happen.  That's  the  way  it 
was  when  the  trouble  came." 

"  Trouble  ?  "  repeated  Harman,  looking  puzzled. 

"  Oh,  dear,  hain't  you  heard ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Well- 
man.  "Have  I  got  to  be  the  one  to  tell  you? 
Warn't  there  nobody  to  tell  you  but  me  ?  " 


310         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  I  came  directly  here,"  said  Harman.  "  I  thought 
I  wouldn't  go  to  the  church  until  later.  I  wrote 
Vaughan  to  that  effect.  I  hadn't  heard  from  him, 
directly  or  indirectly,  for  some  weeks,  but  he  knew  I 
was  traveling  about — does  the  trouble  concern  him?  " 
For  a  pained  look  had  stolen  over  Mrs.  Wellman's 
face  at  the  mention  of  Vaughan's  name. 

Sarah  Wellman  choked  and  swallowed  before  she 
answered,  "  Yes,  it  does." 

"  Is  he  ill?  Hurt?  Hasn't  he  paid  his  bills?  Has 
he  been  getting  into  bad  habits  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  he  got  into  them  before  he  came  here," 
she  blurted  out.  "I  can't  tell  you — I  can't  do  it. 
There's  Mr.  Wilkins  coming  up  the  road.  Tommy, 
run  and  ask  Mr.  Wilkins  to  step  in  a  minute."  She 
turned  to  her  guest.  "  I'm  goin'  to  see  about  dinner. 
He'll  tell  you  all  you  wanter  know." 

A  few  searching  questions  brought  out  the  whole 
story  from  Ned.  He  believed  Vaughan  had  told 
the  truth,  but  of  course  things  were  in  an  awful 
mess — the  church  had  very  nearly  gone  to 
pieces. 

"  You  know  how  people  are ;  they're  like  sheep," 
said  Ned.  "  They  piled  in  there,  the  church  wouldn't 
hold  them.  Now  they've  all  gone  the  other  way.  I 
can  understand  how  Vaughan  couldn't  talk  about  his 
troubles  when  he  came  here.  It  was  perfectly  natural 
for  such  a  sensitive  fellow  as  he  is  to  say  nothing, 
and  go  along  about  his  business." 


A  CALL  FROM  THE  SUPERINTENDENT  311 


"  His  friends  at  Galena  knew  nothing  about  this," 
said  Harman.  "  They  said  they  hadn't  heard  from 
him  or  seen  a  newspaper  for  a  month.  I  haven't." 

"  There  was  nothing  in  the  papers,"  said  Ned 
quickly.  "  That  was  the  way  Penrose  showed  his 
friendliness.  There  are  a  number  of  us  who  still 
believe  in  Vaughan — but  of  course  this  thing  is  bad 
for  the  Church." 

"  It's  ruinous!  "  said  Harman. 

He  ate  his  dinner  in  silence,  and  as  soon  as  he  had 
swallowed  the  last  mouthful  immediately  left  the 
house. 

Vaughan  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  doorway — a 
somber  figure,  with  restless  eyes  which  burnt 
themselves  into  Harman's  memory.  He  had  outlived 
the  period  of  heroic  endurance,  exhausted  his  patience. 
He  was  a  man  at  bay,  fighting  with  his  back  against 
the  wall.  Harman's  first  words  were  not  calculated 
to  soften  the  situation.  "  I  am  surprised  and 
shocked,"  he  began  weightily,  "  to  find — what  do 
I  find?" 

"  I'm  here,"  said  Vaughan  flippantly,  "  and  so  is 
the  building.  That's  about  all.  Come  in."  He  led 
the  way  to  the  study.  Harman  followed  and  seated 
himself  ponderously  in  the  chair  before  the  desk.  He 
whirled  halfway  around  and  took  an  ivory  paper- 
cutter  from  the  desk  to  occupy  his  nervous  fingers, 
before  he  continued.  He  was  not  pleased  with 
Vaughan's  manner. 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  Of  course,"  he  said  formally,  "  you  cannot  go  on 
like  this." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do?  "  inquired  the  young 
preacher.  "What  do  you  think  I  should  have  done 
in  the  first  place  ?  " 

The  Superintendent  cleared  his  throat  once,  twice. 
"  Well,  as  to  that,"  he  began  hesitatingly,  "  The— 
ah  —  secrecy  -  " 

"  What  secrecy  ?  "  demanded  Vaughan.  "  No  one 
asked  if  I  was  married.  I  did  my  best  to  bring  about 
a  reconciliation.  Nothing  would  serve  except  to 
throw  up  my  work  here  and  return  to  England." 

"  That,"  said  Harman  positively,  "  is  what  you 
should  have  done  !  " 

Vaughan  stared.  Then  he  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 
"Perhaps  you  think  I'd  better  return  to  England, 
now  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  I  do,"  said  the  Superintendent.  "  I  do,  most 
assuredly."  He  beat  the  air  with  the  paper-cutter, 
measuring  off  his  words.  "  The  reputation  of  a 
clergyman  is  something  that  cannot  be  tampered 
with."  He  paused  and  again  beat  the  air.  "  Once 
gone,  it  is  gone  forever;  it  cannot  be  recovered.  It 
makes  no  difference  how  innocent  a  man  may  be,  if  he 
has  placed  himself  or  been  placed  in  a  position  to 
bring  disgrace  upon  the  Church,  there  is  nothing  to 
do  but  open  the  door  -  " 

"  And  kick  him  out,"  finished  Vaughan.  "  I  see. 
But  what  if  I  refuse  to  be  kicked  out?  "  There  was 


A  CALL  FROM  THE  SUPERINTENDENT  313 

an  ugly  look  in  his  eyes.  The  Superintendent  evaded 
them.  "  Mr.  Vaughan,  we  don't  want  any  trouble 
with  you,"  he  said  distantly.  "  If  it's  a  question  of 
money— 

"  I  don't  want  a  cent  of  money  from  the  Mission," 
broke  in  Vaughan,  "  I  never  have  wanted  it.  From 
the  day  I  came  to  this  pauperized,  impotent  organiza 
tion  I've  taken  care  that  it  should  not  come  back  to 
the  Mission.  I've  paid  off  its  debts,  made  it  self-sup 
porting — you  know  what  I've  done !  " 

"  Ye-es,  I  know  that  you've  done  remark-a-bly 
well,"  said  the  Superintendent.  "  But  now " 

"  Now,  I'm  under  a  cloud,"  said  the  young 
preacher  earnestly.  "  But  you  know  how  these  people 
are.  They  change  in  a  moment.  They  are  liable  to 
come  trooping  back  to-morrow.  It's  the  fashion  just 
now  to  stone  me.  It  has  been  the  fashion  to  make  an 
idol  of  me."  He  smiled,  actually  smiled  as  he  added, 
"  It  may  be  again." 

Harman  shook  his  head.  "  It  would  not  be  well 
for  the  Church,"  he  said  magisterially,  "  to  hold 
lightly  a  matter  of  this  kind.  We  cannot  ignore, 
pass  over  this — complication.  It  would  have  a  bad 
effect  upon  our  authority.  It  would  never  do." 

The  ugly  look  came  back  into  Vaughan's  eyes. 

"  You  mean  that  you  want  me  to — get  out?  "  he 
inquired  harshly.  "  Is  that  it  ?  " 

Harman  nodded,  once,  twice,  thrice.  "  That's  it !  " 
he  said  coolly.  "  For  the  good  of  the  Church." 


314         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  For  the  good  of  the  Church?  "  repeated  Vaughan 
desperately.  "  Is  it  for  the  good  of  the  Church  that 
a  son  who  has  loved  and  served  her  with  all  his  heart 
shall  be  disowned  and  exiled  because,  forsooth,  he 
has  loved  and  served  her  above  all  else,  and  to  his  own 
undoing?  Is  that  for  the  good  of  the  Church?  " 

"  Something  must  be  conceded  to  appearances," 
said  the  Superintendent  sharply. 

"  Concede  it,  then,  by  all  means ! "  cried  Vaughan, 
towering  above  him,  and  lifting  his  long  arms  as  if  to 
call  the  unseen  hosts  to  witness.  "  Concede  it !  Con 
cede  me!  But  when  we  meet  before  high  Heaven, 
John  Harman,  you  will  have  to  concede  something  to 
reality,  and  it's  pretty  sure  to  be  the  small,  skulking, 
pettifogging  soul  in  that  big,  comfortable  body  of 
yours ! " 

Harman  started  up  in  alarm.  Had  his  troubles 
driven  the  young  man  mad?  Like  a  maniac  indeed 
Vaughan  seemed,  his  thick,  black  hair  tossed  about  his 
white  face,  the  unfathomable  depths  of  his  large,  dark 
eyes  opening  like  the  pit  of  remorse  into  which  he 
would  plunge  his  companion. 

Self-control  returned  as  suddenly  as  it  had  left 
him.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  coldly.  "  I  for 
got  myself.  I  will  return  to  England,  as  you  suggest. 
There  are  certain  matters  to  be  arranged  with  my — 
successor.  If  you  will  send  him  here  upon  your  re 
turn,  I  will  attend  to  them  as  soon  as  may  be."  He 
was  all  dignity  now,  all  reserve  and  resolute  calm. 


rA  CALL  FROM  THE  SUPERINTENDENT  315 

Harman  put  out  his  hand.  Vaughan  turned  away  as 
if  he  had  not  seen  it. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am "  began  the 

Superintendent. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  last  Quarterly  ?  "  interrupted 
Vaughan.  "  No  ?  Take  it  with  you.  There  are 
some  excellent  articles  in  it.  You  can  read  them  on 
the  way." 

He  bowed  the  Superintendent  out  with  much  cere 
mony,  then  returned  to  the  long,  narrow  room,  where 
he  had  worked  and  thought  and  prayed  for  a  year  and 
a  half,  where  he  had  dreamed  dreams  and  seen  visions, 
for  the  most  part  of  the  Holy  City,  and  of  the  es 
tablishment  of  God's  Kingdom  on  earth.  Not  until 
of  late  had  his  dreams  been  of  a  woman's  love,  his 
visions  of  her  loveliness. 

And  now,  now  he  was  to  be  driven  out!  Flogged 
back  to  England  and  Delia!  Dishonored  where  he 
had  been  of  all  men  most  trusted  and  admired. 

How  could  he  meet  it?  How  could  he  bear  it,  he, 
a  young  man !  The  pitiless  years  spread  out  before 
him,  monotonous,  arid  as  the  desert  around  the  can 
yon  !  His  soul  fainted  within  him  at  the  thought  of 
them. 

How  could  he  endure  this  fate,  this  destiny,  this 
lot  in  which  he  had  no  choice?  It  had  haunted  him 
since  Delia  came,  as  a  threat,  defied  and  ignored — 
as  a  possibility,  combated,  resisted. — It  was  now  a 
fact !  Escape  there  was  none ! 


316         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

But  he  must  escape,  or  go  mad.  How  did  men  es 
cape  from  the  recurring  torture  of  a  thought  like 
this? 

How  did  they?  Why  there  was  Barker's  squat, 
black  flask,  the  devil's  envoy,  answering  him.  "  Take 
me,"  it  chuckled.  "  Take  me,  and  forget ! "  .  .  . 

That  was  the  temptation,  the  core  of  it,  he  saw  now, 
at  last;  that  was  the  plea  which  sorrow  and  shame 
and  desperation  found  irresistible.  That  was  it! 
Not  the  appeal  to  the  palate,  the  glow  through  the 
chilled  body,  the  appeasing  of  hunger  and  thirst, 
but  escape!  He  caught  the  flask,  uncorked  it  with 
trembling  fingers  and  raised  it  to  his  lips. — No, 
no,  not  that  way,  the  coward's  way,  the  weakling's 
way,  the  way  of  the  brute ! 

Where  then?  Out  into  the  free  air,  under  the  open 
sky,  as  so  often  before,  seeking  what  he  had  failed  to 
find  elsewhere !  With  somewhat  of  the  old  haste,  the 
old  stride,  he  passed  through  Eureka  streets  and 
climbed  the  Geiger  Grade. 

The  gray  day  was  closing.  The  canyon  lay  in 
shadow.  Beyond  it  the  plain  stretched,  dull  and 
undefined.  Here  and  there  lights  twinkled  in  the 
small,  awkward  mining  town.  Its  smallness,  its  awk 
wardness  had  always  appealed  to  him.  They  touched 
him  now.  Poor  little  uneasy  Eureka !  By  to-morrow 
it  would  be  back  at  his  knees,  like  a  wayward  child, 
begging  to  be  taken  to  his  heart  again.  But  to- 


A  CALL  FROM  THE  SUPERINTENDENT  317 

morrow  was  out  of  his  reach — for  the  good  of  the 
Church! 

He  hurried  away  from  the  town  and  went  on, 
blinded  by  a  rush  of  tears.  He  was  nearly  at  the 
summit  now.  A  turn  in  the  road  brought  him  to  the 
great  rock  which  marked  the  highest  point.  Some 
one  was  sitting  there,  a  woman  wrapped  in  a  long 
cloak.  She  started  up  at  his  approach,  and  he  saw 
that  it  was  Delia.  She  had  the  child  in  her  arms. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

MAKTIN    YOUNG    TELLS    WHAT    HE    SAW 

THOSE  were  dull  days  at  Jack's.  Jack 
was  like  a  surly  old  lion:  he  showed  his  teeth 
to  everyone  who  "  got  gay."  Whoever  had 
a  story  to  tell  told  it  in  an  undertone,  ineffectively, 
missing  the  point,  and  winning  only  a  faint,  half 
hearted  response.  As  for  singing,  there  was  none 
of  it. 

Who  could  enjoy  a  glass  under  such  circum 
stances?  It  was  whispered  around  among  the  fre 
quenters  of  the  saloon  that  Jack  would  have  to  go 
out  of  the  business. 

Late  that  chilly  November  afternoon,  however, 
after  the  gray  day  when  the  Superintendent  of  Mis 
sions  called  on  Vaughan,  a  crowd  had  gathered  such 
as  had  not  been  seen  at  Jack's  in  weeks.  All  the  old 
set  were  there  and  many  others  who  came  but  seldom, 
Barker,  Winslow,  Ned  Wilkins,  as  well  as  Jo  and 
Dick  and  Tim  Noonan.  This  was  partly  due  to  the 
weather,  which,  like  the  crack  of  a  whip,  on  the  first 
cold  nights,  is  apt  to  drive  human  animals  herding 
together.  And  it  was  due  also,  in  part,  to  the  report 
that  the  Superintendent  of  Missions  was  in  town, 
had  come,  in  fact,  to  patch  up  matters  for  the  Par- 

318 


MARTIN    TELLS    WHAT    HE    SAW     319 

son.  Some  said  the  thing  couldn't  be  done,  others 
contended  that  the  Parson  would  be  more  popular 
than  ever  in  a  month's  time.  The  company  broke  up 
into  groups  and  discussed  the  situation — not  before 
Jack;  he  would  not  allow  a  word  on  the  subject  to  be 
said  at  any  time  in  his  presence.  He  went  from 
group  to  group,  now,  and,  as  soon  as  he  drew  near,  the 
topic  of  conversation  was  changed.  About  six 
o'clock,  as  one  and  another  threatened  to  go  home 
for  "  grub,"  Martin  Young  stumbled  up  the  steps 
and  almost  fell  into  the  room. 

"  For  God's  sake,  give  me  a  drink,  somebody ! " 
he  called.  His  hand  shook  as  it  received  the  tumbler 
and  he  spilled  very  nearly  half  the  contents  on  his 
clothes. 

"  Seen  a  ghost,  Mart?  "  inquired  a  jaunty  young 
miner. 

"  Ghosts  be  damned ! "  returned  Martin  solemnly. 

"  Gi'  me  another ! "  he  called,  holding  out  the 
empty  tumbler. 

By  this  time  he  had  become  the  center  of  interest. 
Everyone  pressed  forward,  curious  to  learn  what 
Martin  Young  saw.  The  second  glassful  followed 
the  first  and  then  he  turned  and  faced  them,  his  small 
reddish  eyes  redder  than  ever,  his  bristling  beard 
awry. 

"  Come  on,  le's  hear!  What  did  you  see,  Mart?  " 
they  urged.  "What  was  it?" 

He   glanced  towards   Jack,   standing   by   himself, 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


apart  from  the  crowd,  grave,  watchful,  his  brows  bent 
in  the  anxious  frown  they  perpetually  wore,  these 
days. 

"  I  see  a  norful  sight!  "  he  said  impressively,  wip 
ing  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand.  "  /  see — 
a  man — push  a  woman — over  the  Geiger  Grade — an9 
then — jump  over  hisself!  " 

"What  man?" 

"What  man?" 

"What  woman?" 

They  crowded  him,  jostled  him,  Barker  and  Wins- 
low  and  Ned  Wilkins  rubbing  elbows  with  the  rest. 
"What  man?  What  woman?"  they  repeated.  But 
they  knew  what  man  and  what  woman. 

Only  Jack  remained  aloof  and  silent,  gripping  a 
chairback  till  the  knuckles  of  his  great  hands  stood 
up  white  and  hard. 

"  What  man?     What  woman?  "  they  asked  again. 

Martin  looked  at  Jack  before  he  answered  "  The 
Parson — an' — an' " 

Before  he  could  finish  Jack  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  group,  shaking  Martin  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat. 
"  Ye  low-lived  cur ! "  he  growled  between  his  teeth. 
"Ye  damn  liar!" 

"It's  the  truth,  'fore  Gawd!"  declared  Martin, 
rolling  up  his  eyes  until  very  little  more  than  the 
whites  showed.  "  Lemme  go,  Jack.  It's  Gawd's 
truth.  Hope  I  may  die  if  it  ain't!  You  go  'round 
by  the  lower  road  an'  you'll  find  'em ! " 


MARTIN    TELLS    WHAT    HE    SAW     321 

"  Boys,"  called  Jack,  one  hand  still  on  Martin's 
collar,  "  there's  been  an — accident.  Who'll  go  along 
o'  me  on  a  search?  " 

"  I  will !  "  said  Dick   promptly. 

"So'll  I!"  said  Jo. 

Half  a  dozen  stalwart  fellows  joined  them.  Lan 
terns,  ropes,  a  ladder  were  procured.  "  Now,"  said 
Jack,  jerking  Martin  into  the  front  of  the  line, 
"  lead  on ;  and  if  ye've  lied,  it'll  be  as  much  as  your 
damn  neck's  worth ! " 

Martin  led  the  way,  down  the  dim  streets  of 
Eureka,  up  the  hill,  over  the  brow  of  it,  by  a  sudden 
turn  to  the  right,  over  a  narrow,  dipping  pathway 
that  wound  and  clung  to  the  side  of  the  mountain. 
Now  and  then  a  man  fell  over  a  tree-root  or  a  stone, 
swore  deeply,  picked  himself  up  and  went  on,  grum 
bling  :  otherwise  they  marched  in  silence.  The  swing 
ing  lanterns  sent  their  rays  out,  this  side  and  that, 
revealing  glimpses  of  the  gray  sage  brush  and 
huge  lichen-blistered  rocks.  There  was  nothing 
else. 

They  were  almost  at  the  end  of  the  path,  when 
suddenly,  by  a  common  impulse,  the  instinctive  turn 
ing  towards  a  presence,  every  man  looked  up,  holding 
his  lantern  high  over  his  head.  A  murmur  ran  down 
the  line,  "  There  they  are!  There  they  are!  " 

Yes,  there  they  were,  on  a  shelving  rock  above  the 
path,  the  woman  lying  on  the  ground,  wrapped  in  her 
long  cloak,  the  child  still  in  her  arms,  the  man  kneel- 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


ing  beside  them.  He  did  not  move  save  to  look  up, 
saying  piteously,  "  They're  dead!  " 

The  concussion  had  killed  them;  they  had  struck 
upon  the  rock.  His  hands  were  torn  and  bleeding 
from  letting  himself  down,  by  tree  and  jutting  cliff, 
and  he  was  covered  with  dust  and  dry  leaves. 

"  The  ladder !  "  ordered  Jack.     It  was  brought. 

"  Your  coats !  "  Every  man  stripped  off  his  coat, 
Jack  first.  He  spread  the  garment  carefully  over 
the  rounds  and  pointed  for  them  to  do  the  same. 
They  obeyed. 

"Now  Dick."  He  beckoned  Dick  to  him; 
together  they  lifted  the  bodies  and  laid  them  upon 
the  improvised  bier. 

"Ready!"  They  lifted  their  burden,  and,  in 
silence,  as  they  had  come,  tramped  back  to  Eureka, 
Martin  still  in  the  lead.  Bareheaded  they  were,  and 
without  their  coats,  except  the  black-robed  figure  in 
the  rear.  Nor  could  any  man  of  them  have  told 
what  the  weather  was,  although  it  was  November, 
and  damp  and  chill. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   ARREST 

AT  the  door  of  the  undertaker's  rooms  Jack 
halted  his  little  company  and  went  back  to 
Vaughan.  "  You  go  home  now,"  he  said 
quietly.  "We'll  see  't  everything's  done  right. 
Here,  Dick !  "  he  beckoned  Dick  to  him.  "  You  go 
along  with  him." 

The  two  went  off  together.  Jack  dictated  the 
necessary  arrangements  and  sent  Jo  for  the  Coroner. 
"  You'll  have  to  sit  to-night,"  he  said,  when  the  man 
came. 

"  Just  as  well  wait  till  to-morrer,  Jack,"  the 
Coroner  replied. 

"  I  said,  you'll  sit  to-night,"  was  the  answer ;  "  and 
when  Jack  Perry  says  a  thing,  it  goes,"  which  the 
Coroner  knew  without  being  told.  The  present  occa 
sion  proved  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

Martin  Young  was  the  sole  witness  of  the  tragedy. 
The  others  could  only  tell  what  they  found.  Martin 
was  examined  to  the  very  innermost  intention.  They 
turned  him  inside  out,  upside  down,  shook  him,  turned 
him  back  again,  but  could  not  make  him  let  go 
his  first  brief  statement  of  what  he  had  seen.  They 
tried  to  trip  him,  hinted  that  he  was  not  in  a  condi- 

323 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


tion  to  know  what  he  saw.  What  had  he  had  "  to 
take?" 

"  Nothing." 

Those  who  saw  him  come  into  the  saloon  testified 
that  he  had  not  even  the  smell  of  liquor  about  him, 
that  he  had  to  have  a  couple  of  glasses  before  he 
could  tell  his  story. 

They  made  him  tell  it  over  again.  It  did  not 
vary  a  hair.  He  had  been  coming  down  the  Geiger 
Grade  on  his  roan  mare.  She  had  got  a  stone  in  her 
foot.  He  had  alighted  to  knock  it  out,  had  picked 
up  another  stone  for  the  purpose,  when  he  heard 
voices,  heard  the  Parson  say,  "  It's  your  work.  I'm 
ruined,  and  you  did  it  !  "  heard  the  woman  scream, 
saw  him  lay  his  hand  on  her. 

"  Wasn't  it  to  keep  her  from  jumping  over?  " 
they  asked. 

"  Not  by  a  damn  sight  !  "  returned  Martin.  He 
evidently  believed  that  he  had  seen  what  he  said. 
The  jury  were  beginning  to  believe  it.  One  man 
after  another  yielded.  Again  and  again  Jack  called 
upon  Martin  to  repeat  this  or  that  feature  of  the 
story,  but  every  repetition  strengthened  it.  "  I  tell 
yer,  I  seen  him!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I'll  be—  I'll  be  "— 
he  repeated  the  worst  string  of  oaths  in  his  reper 
tory—"  if  I  ain't  tellin'  the  trewth!  " 

They  believed  him.  They  brought  in  their  verdict 
violent  death. 

"Where's  Mat  Kyle?"  demanded  Jack. 


THE    ARREST  325 


"  You  ain't  goin'  to  send  him  over  there  to-night, 
be  ye?  "  asked  the  Coroner.  "  Just  as  well  wait  till 
mornin'." 

"Where's  Mat  Kyle?"  Jack  repeated.  "Go 
fetch  him,"  he  ordered  one  of  the  young  miners. 

Mat  was  not  far  to  seek.  He  was  among  the 
throng  waiting  outside.  He  pushed  his  way  in,  his 
round,  good-humored  face  puckered  like  a  frightened 
child's.  "  Why,  Jack,"  he  demurred,  "  yer  wouldn't 
drag  a  man  outer  bed  at  one-two  clock  in  the  middle 
of  the  night !  " 

"He  ain't  a-bed,"  said  Jack  shortly.  "You  do 
as  I  tell  yer." 

The  crowd  increased  outside.  They  swarmed  like 
bees  over  the  sidewalk  and  up  the  steps,  flattening 
their  noses  on  the  windowpanes  to  look  into  the  room. 
"  You  do  as  I  tell  yer,"  said  Jack,  "  and  then  you 
come  back  here." 

Mat  disappeared.  The  crowd  parted  to  let  him 
through.  "  There  he  goes ! "  they  murmured.  "  He's 
goin'  to  fetch  him." 

Some  of  them  started  in  pursuit,  but  Mat  turned 
in  his  tracks  and  drew  his  revolver.  His  timidity 
and  reluctance  had  disappeared.  "  The  fust  dog 
gone  cuss  that  sets  out  to  foller  me  '11  get  it!  "  he 
shouted,  and  they  went  no  farther. 

Jack  strode  up  and  down,  his  hands  deep  in  his 
pockets,  his  face  like  a  mask.  No  one  could  even 
conjecture  what  was  behind  it. 


326         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Presently  Mat  returned.  Jack  went  up  to  him, 
"Well?"  he  asked. 

"  I've  took  him  there — to  the  jail,"  said  Mat.  His 
face  worked.  "  I  met  him.  He  was  just  comin' 
outer  his  place.  He  was  goin'  to  give  hisself  up." 

"That's  all,"  said  Jack  stonily.  "Boys,"  he 
spoke  to  the  group  at  the  door,  "  you'd  better  go 
home  now." 

The  street  was  full.  Women  had  come,  with 
shawls  over  their  heads;  their  dark,  draped  figures 
showed  like  shadows  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd. 
Some  were  weeping ;  one,  a  small,  thin,  childish  crea 
ture,  sobbed  aloud.  She  had  a  dog  with  her. 

"  'S  that  you,  Posy?  "  called  a  young  miner.  She 
recognized  one  of  the  McClintock  boarders. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  faltered.     "  It's  me,  Annie  Otter." 

"  What  ye  doin'  here?  "  he  asked.  "  This  time  o' 
night,  all  alone  ?  " 

"  Ginger's  along,"  she  answered,  pointing  to  the 
dog.  "  An' — oh,  I  don't  care!  My  missus'  is  dead 
an'  Baby's  dead,  an'  I  don't  care  how  quick  they  kill 
me!" 

"You  think  that's  what  we  do  with  folks  from 
foreign  parts  ? "  he  queried.  "  Well,  we  don't, 
always.  Some  of  'em  we  take  real  good  care  of,  like 
I'm  goin'  to  of  you.  Here,  hook  on !  "  He  grasped 
her  arm.  "  Now,  trot !  Everybody's  out  to-night, 
and  you  can't  trust  everybody  like  you  can  me." 
He  led  her  at  a  brisk  walk  up  the  street  in  the  direc- 


THE    ARREST  327 

tion  of  the  boarding-house.  Before  they  reached  the 
door  she  had  told  him  about  her  father,  her  grand 
father  and  her  uncle  with  whom  she  lived  "  at  'ome." 

"  Brought  up  by  men,  good  thing !  "  he  said  ap 
provingly.  "  I  ain't  much  use  for  girls  brought  up 
by  wimmen.  Get  a  lot  of  fool  notions  in  their 
heads." 

He  asked  her  a  number  of  questions  about  her  mis- 
trees  and  the  Parson.  "  Would  you  be  scairt  to 
death  if  you  should  be  sent  for,  to  come  to  court,  and 
answer  those  questions  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  if  you  was  there,"  she  replied  naively. 

"  I'll  be  there,"  he  promised.  "  You're  a  good 
little  girl,  Annie;  I'll  see  you  again.  Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  she  returned  confidingly.  "  I 
wish't  I  knew  what  your  name  is." 

"  They  call  me  Jo,"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  He 
stooped  to  kiss  her,  thought  better  of  it,  shook  her 
hand  awkwardly  instead,  and  walked  back  to  the  place 
where  he  had  left  the  crowd.  Instead  of  lessening, 
it  had  increased.  The  Coroner  was  besieged  with 
questions  when  he  came  out,  but  he  had  not  much 
to  say. 

Very  little  could  be  learned  from  any  of  the  men 
who  had  been  present  at  the  inquest,  more  than  the 
fact  that  Vaughan  had  been  arrested  and  was  now 
in  jail.  That  was  enough  to  set  them  all  buzzing. 

It  was  rumored  that  Jack  feared  lynching  and  had 
had  the  Parson  shut  up  for  safety.  "  Pretty  damn 


328         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

mean  cuss  that  would  kill  his  woman  and  his  own 
kid !  "  they  said.  "  An'  warn't  in  liquor,  either !  " 

Others  set  up  a  feeble  defense.  "  What  sort  of  a 
woman  was  she,  anyway,"  they  asked,  "  comin'  here 
and  upsettin'  everything,  just  as  he'd  got  to  goin' 
good!" 

These  were  the  men  and  women  whom  Vaughan  had 
nursed  when  ill,  had  comforted  when  in  trouble. 

"  I  more  think  she  tried  to  push  him  over  and  lost 
her  footin'  her  own  self,"  said  Mike  Flynn. 

"  Belike,"  said  his  brother  Jerry. 

A  horseman  rode  slowly  in  among  them.  "  Jerry," 
he  called.  Jerry  obeyed  the  summons. 

It  was  Shed  Wellman.  "What's  this  I  hear?" 
he  asked  sharply.  "  The  Parson  arrested,  in  jail, 
for  the  murder  of  his  wife  and  child  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sor,"  said  Jerry  respectfully. 

"  Who  believes  such  a  string  of  nonsense  ?  " 

"  Mart  Young  says  he  seed  him,"  said  Jerry. 

"  He's  a  damn  liar !  "  exploded  Shed. 

"  Where's  Jack?  "     Nobody  knew. 

"Where's  Mart?"  He,  too,  had  disappeared. 
Shed  rode  hither  and  yon,  but  found  neither.  "  It 
beats  Hannah  Cook !  "  he  muttered.  He  finally  gal 
loped  away  in  the  direction  of  home. 

His  wife  met  him  at  the  door.  "  Did  you  hear 
anything?  "  she  asked. 

'*  Yes,  I  did."  He  went  into  the  hall,  ostensibly 
to  hang  up  his  hat. 


THE    ARREST  329 

She  followed  him.  "What  did  you  hear?"  she 
asked. 

He  returned  to  the  sitting-room.  She  was  close 
behind  him.  "What  did  you  hear,  Shed?"  she 
persisted. 

"What  time  did  Harman  go?"  he  asked  irrele 
vantly. 

"  About  four,  as  soon  as  he  got  back  from  the 
church.  What  did  you  hear,  Shed?  Was  there  any 
truth  in  what  those  men  said  that  come  up  after 
you?" 

"What  did  they  say?" 

"  You  know  what  they  said.  I've  told  you  over 
and  over." 

"  You  ought  to  be  abed,  Sarah,"  his  gruff  voice 
was  almost  tender. 

"I  ain't  goin'  to  bed,  Shed  Wellman,  till  you've 
told  me  what  you've  heard.  What  did  you  hear?  " 

There  was  no  escape  from  it.  Shed  looked  up  at 
her  from  the  big  low  chair  into  which  he  had  thrown 
himself.  "  The  Parson's  in  jail,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  For  what  those  men  said?  " 

He  nodded. 

"  He  never  done  that  in  the  livin'  world,"  she  said 
huskily.  "'Tain'tinhim!" 

Shed  remained  silent. 

"  9T 'ain't  in  him!  "  she  repeated.  "  Why  don't  you 
speak?  Why  don't  you  say  something?  Do  you 
believe  such  a  thing  as  that?  " 


330        THE    SAGE    BRUSH   PARSON 

"  No,  I  don't,"  he  answered. 

''  Who  says  he  done  it?  " 

"  Mart  Young." 

"  I  wouldn't  believe  Mart  Young  under  oath." 

"  Nor  me,"  he  returned  promptly.  "  But  they 
say — the  Parson  went  and  give  himself  up!  " 

"  That  don't  prove  nothin',"  she  cried  sharply. 
"  It's  just  like  him  to  do  some  such  thing  to — to 
relieve  his  mind !  " 

He  gave  her  a  quick  look.  "  'Tain't  so  easy  to  make 
other  folks  believe  that,"  he  said,  and  subsided  into 
gloom. 

"  They  will,  if  they've  got  any  sense,"  she  said 
fiercely.  "  Where  was  Jack  Perry  ?  " 

"  He  was  head  and  front  of  everything ! "  cried 
Shed.  "  He  sent  Mat  after  the  Parson !  " 

"He  did?" 

"  That's  what  he  did!  " 

Neither  spoke  for  some  minutes.  At  last  Shed 
broke  the  silence.  "  He  may  get  off.  They  may 
not " 

"  Shed!     They  wouldn't " 

"  Hang  him?  They  do  generally,  for  such  a 
thing.  Don't  cry,  Sarah!  Don't  cry  like  that! 
Don't,  don't!" 

He  was  sobbing  himself    like  a  child. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

KATHARINE    APPEALS    TO    WINSLOW 

THE  story  had  to  be  told  by  the  Sentinel  the 
next  morning.     It  could  not  be  postponed  or 
ignored.      Penrose    did    his     dignified    best 
with  it,  but  it  read,  after  all,  very  much  like  other 
stories  of  conjugal  quarrel  and  consequent  tragedy. 
Katharine  writhed  as  she  read  it,  in  the  seclusion  of 
her  own  room,  before  the  fire  of  logs  which  crackled 
on  the  hearth. 

Why  had  she  forced  into  her  life  one  so  unrelated 
to  it,  gone  outside  of  the  appropriate  setting,  the 
adapted  circle,  to  draw  and  hold  one  whose  whole  life 
lay  elsewhere — save  the  point  where  they  touched. 
Ah,  but  they  touched!  When  had  this  ever  hap 
pened  to  her  before?  With  the  rest  of  the  world, 
with  the  appropriate  setting,  the  adapted  circle,  she 
had  had  bowing  acquaintance,  no  more. 

Whose  fault  was  that?  Surely  not  the  fault  of 
those  who  loved  her  and  tried  to  study  her  needs.  It 
was  her  own  willful  fault,  that  she  must  seek  out 
strange  flavors,  unusual  experiences,  and  cheapen  her 
self  to  obtain  them.  That  was  the  bitterness  of  it, 
that  she  had  cheapened  herself,  she,  Katharine  Sin- 

331 


332         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

clair,  with  her  pride,  to  satisfy  a  craving  for  some 
thing  which  all  the  while  was  not  hers. 

Was  not  hers  ?  Was  ever  anything  more  hers  than 
that  brief  contact  with  the  unseen,  mysterious  work 
ings  of  life? 

But — how  did  it  differ  from  the  ordinary  experience 
of  every  woman  who  loves  ?  Why  fancy  that  she  had 
rights  and  privileges  forbidden  them?  Call  things 
by  their  right  names,  Katharine  Sinclair.  You 
wanted  this  man.  His  need  of  you  was  the  plea  that 
you  used,  but  you  wanted  him,  you  would  have 
him.  Well?  What  have  you  had?  What  have 
you  now?  You  have  broken  your  jar  of  precious 
ointment  upon  his  head — and  he  is  a  felon — accused 
of  murder — in  jail,  awaiting  sentence ! 

"  Mamma !  "  called  a  voice  outside,  "Mamma!  " 

"  Run  away,  Elsie ;  Mamma's  busy ! "  she  re 
plied. 

"  I  can't,"  piped  the  voice.     "  I  must  come  in !  " 

"  Her  mother's  own  child ! "  muttered  Katharine, 
rising  and  flinging  open  the  door. 

Elsie  promptly  entered.  "  Sailor  Boy,"  the 
knitted  worsted  doll,  was  thrust  into  her  belt ;  Bettine, 
the  bisque  toy,  sat  stiffiy  erect  in  a  go-cart  pushed 
before  her,  and  Nancy,  the  big,  floppy  rag  baby,  sur 
vivor  of  countless,  complex  adventures,  lay  limply 
over  her  shoulder.  "  I  had  to  have  them  all,"  sighed 
Elsie,  as  she  climbed  into  her  mother's  lap.  "  I  was 
so  lonesome." 


KATHARINE   APPEALS   TO  WINSLOW    333 

"Why  aren't  you  at  lessons  with  Aunt  Emmeline 
and  Marguerite?"  inquired  her  mother. 

"  There  aren't  any,"  replied  Elsie  promptly. 
"  There  aren't  going  to  be  any,  at  present,  Aunt  Em- 
meline's  nerves  is  so  shook." 

"  Shaken,"  corrected  her  mother. 

"  Aunt  Emmeline  said  shook." 

"  No,  she  didn't ;  she  never  says  such  things." 

"  Shaken,  then,"  said  Elsie,  accepting  the  amend 
ment.  "  And  Mary  Flynn's  out  in  the  kitchen,  cry 
ing,  with  Nora.  Jerry  cried,  too,  when  he  came  in 
from  the  barn.  I  saw  him.  Mother!  "  Elsie  very 
seldom  said  "  Mother."  It  denoted  unusual  serious 
ness  on  her  part. 

"Well?"  said  Katharine. 

"  Where  is  C.V.?" 

"  How  should  I  know,  Elsie?  " 

"Is  he  in  jail?" 

"  What  a  question  I."  exclaimed  Katharine,  pushing 
the  child  from  her  knee.  "  Run  and  tell  Nora  to 
come  to  me  at  once,  and  then  go  and  play  with  your 
dollies." 

"I  can't  play,"  fretted  the  child.  "I'm  so 
nervous!  " 

"  Run  along,  and  do  as  I  tell  you." 

Elsie  reluctantly  trundled  the  go-cart  out  of  the 
room.  Over  her  shoulder  the  rag  baby  flopped  dis 
consolately. 

Nora  soon  appeared,  a  swollen  and  distorted  Nora, 


334         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

with  agitated  fingers  plaiting  the  corner  of  her 
apron. 

"Elsie  is  not  to  go  into  the  kitchen  again,"  com 
manded  Katharine  sternly,  "  or  anywhere  else  where 
she  can  hear  talk." 

"  But  she  was  that  bound  and  determined " 

pleaded  Nora. 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  is.  If  she  won't  mind,  you  can 
come  and  tell  me." 

Still  Nora  lingered.  "What  is  it?"  asked  her 
mistress. 

"  If  ye  plaze,  ma'am,  Mary  Flynn's  here  and  is 
wantin'  a  word  with  you,  ma'am,  if  you'll  be  so  kind." 

Nora's  lips  quivered.  She  threw  her  apron  over 
her  head.  Manners  or  no,  she  could  not  hold  in 
another  minute. 

"  You  may  send  her  to  me,"  said  Katharine 
formally. 

Nora  quickly  vanished  and  in  her  place  Mary 
Flynn  appeared.  She  had  worked  for  the  Sinclairs 
when  Katharine  was  a  young  girl  and  her  old  name  for 
her  mistress'  daughter  arose  to  her  lips.  "  Oh,  Miss 
Kitty,  ma'am,  whatever  are  we  to  do ! "  she  cried, 
wringing  her  hands. 

."I  don't  see  that  we  are  called  upon  to  do  any 
thing,"  said  Katharine  coldly. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  I  thought — you  an'  him  bein' 
friends,"  faltered  Mary.  "  Folks  do  be  sayin' " 

"  People  are  very  free  with  their  tongues,"  said 


KATHARINE    APPEALS   TO   WINSLOW     335 

Katharine  curtly.  "  Mr.  Vaughan  has  been  an  oc 
casional  caller  at  the  house. — Why  don't  you  go  to 
my  brother?  He  is  the  one  for  you  to  see  if  it's 
a — petition." 

"It  ain't,  ma'am.  It  ain't,  Miss  Kitty.  There 
ain't  twinty  men  in  town  would  sign  it,  what  ails  'em 
all,  I  dunno.  Me  own  man,  that'll  do  anything  I 
ask  him,  won't  stir  a  foot.  An'  here's  that  poor  felly, 
widout  even  a  lawyer.  They  all  says  that." 

"  Where's  Mr.  Barker? "  inquired  Katharine 
sharply.  "  Oh,  I  see.  He  is  district  attorney." 

"  There's  no  one  else  'cep  Mr.  Winslow,  an'  you  an' 
him  bein'  friends,  as  I  said " 

So  that  was  what  she  meant.  It  was  Winslow  and 
not  Vaughan  of  whom  she  spoke. 

"  I  thought  p'r'aps  you'd  ask  Mr.  Winslow  to  defind 
him — the  poor  soul,  the  poor  soul ! "  Mary  wiped 
her  eyes  with  a  corner  of  her  shawl.  "  Oh,  ma'am," 
she  continued,  "  if  you  cud  see  him  this  summer, 
when  there  warn't  no  doctor  to  be  had.  Did  ye  hear 
that  I  had  him  wid  the  last  wan?  Well,  I  did.  My 
man  says  to  me,  says  he,  'Are  ye  goin'  to  have  that 
bye '  ?  'I  am,'  says  I.  '  What  else  would  I  do  ? 
There  ain't  a  woman  around  that  knows  how,  an' 
Elliott  is  thryin'  to  be  State  senator  an'  Addison's 
full  all  the  toime.  Sure,  Bridget  Donohoo  had  him 
an'  that  Cornishwoman  that  lives  over  beyant,  an' 
says  I, '  I'll  have  him,  if  he'll  come.'  An'  he  come,  on 
the  aidge  of  the  avenin'  an'  stayed  till  break  o'  day. 


336         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

An'  there  I  was  a-hollerin'  an'  thinkin'  I  was  dead. 
An'  says  he,  'Hould  on  to  the  Lord,  Mary.'  An' 
say  I,  '  I'm  a-houldin',  but  it  looks  like  He  ain't 
there.9  6  Hould  on  to  me,  then,'  says  he,  an'  give  me 
the  two  hands  of  him.  D'ye  mind  his  hands, 
ma'am ?  " 

Did  she?  Those  haunting,  helpful  hands!  The 
two  women  were  sobbing  together,  now,  clinging  like 
sisters. 

"I'll  do  what  I  can,  Mary,"  faltered  Katharine. 
"  I'll  see  Mr.  Winslow.  Will  you  take  a  note  to  him 
for  me?  » 

"  That  I  will !  "  cried  Mary,  wiping  away  the  tears. 
"  PuJ  it  to  him  the  way  ye  know  how,  darlin'." 

"  I'll  ask  him  to  call,"  said  Katharine,  seating  her 
self  at  her  desk.  "  I'll  have  him  come  right  away." 

"  Do,  darlin',"  urged  Mary. 

As  soon  as  she  had  dispatched  the  note,  Katharine's 
heart  misgave  her.  She  ran  to  the  window  to  call 
Mary  back,  but  the  agile  little  old-country-born 
Irishwoman  was  already  halfway  down  the  hill;  and, 
after  all,  what  better  was  there  to  do?  There  was  no 
time  to  send  for  an  out-of-town  lawyer.  The  trial 
was  to  take  place  almost  immediately,  after  the  man 
ner  of  Eureka  justice.  There  were  few  lawyers  in  the 
State,  any  way,  more  able  than  Eugene  Winslow.  He 
could  do  it,  if  he  would.  If  he  would!  How  more 
than  wise,  and  prudent,  she  must  be! 

The  minutes  dragged  like  hours  until  he  came,  yet 


KATHARINE    APPEALS   TO   WINSLOW     337 

when  she  heard  him  mount  the  steps  and  ring  the  bell 
the  time  of  her  preparation  had  been  all  too  short. 
She  had  removed  the  traces  of  tears,  and  had  changed 
the  fashion  of  her  hair  and  gown.  He  must  find  her 
no  mourning  dove. 

He  entered  hastily,  his  lip  twitching.  He  had  not 
been  alone  with  her  for  months. 

She  gave  him  her  hand.  "  Do  you  know  why  I  sent 
for  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  can  imagine,"  he  replied  abruptly.  "  It  is 
this  affair  of  Vaughan's.  You  are  naturally — dis 
turbed." 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  she  said  with  a  tranquillity  which 
surprised  herself.  "Sit  here  by  the  fire.  It's  a 
chilly  morning." 

Winslow  obeyed,  holding  out  his  hands  to  the 
blaze. 

"  From  the  first  I've  taken  an  interest  in  Mr. 
Vaughan,"  said  Katharine,  in  calm,  well-bred 
tones — were  they  too  calm,  too  well-bred?  she  won 
dered. — "  He  seemed  so  young,  and  ingenuous." 

"  He  is  your  own  age,"  exploded  Winslow. 

"Is  he?  "  she  asked.  "I  should  have  said  that  he 
was  much  younger.  I  fancy  he  has  not  seen  very 
much  of  the  world.  He  is  very  boyish — don't  you 
think?" 

"  Possibly,"  said  Winslow. 

"  Well,  anyway,"  said  Katharine,  with  an  access 
of  energy.  "  Of  course  we  can't  let  him — let 


338         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

them — do  as  they  please  with  him,  after  he  has  been 
one  of  us,  a  member  of  your  club.  I  sent  for  youv 
to  consult  with  you,  to  see  what  could  be  done." 

She  had  really  managed  very  well,  she  told  herself. 
She  had  kept  the  tremolo  out  of  her  voice ;  and  across 
the  room  Winslow  could  not  hear  the  beating  of  her 
heart. 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  Arthur  about  this  ? "  in- 
quired  Winslow  searchingly. 

"  N-no,"  said  Katharine.  "  Arthur  —  Arthur 
doesn't  like  to  talk  about  the  things  which  he  takes 
very  much  to  heart.  He  is,  of  course — disturbed, 
like  me.  You  know  you  can  talk  over  your  troubles 
more  easily  with  someone  outside  the  family,  that  is, 
not  too  far  outside,  an — an  intimate  friend,  like 
you." 

She  was  actually  stumbling  over  her  words.  This 
would  never  do. 

"  There  is  a  strong  feeling  against  Vaughan,"  said 
Winslow,  scowling.  "  And  it  is  increasing." 

Katharine's  blood  turned  to  ice  in  her  veins.  She 
did  not  dare  to  look  at  Winslow,  or  to  trust  her  voice. 
After  a  pause  he  continued.  "  It  looks  pretty  black, 
you  know,  for  a  man  to  kill  his  wife  and  child.  She 
was  his  wife,  there's  no  doubt  about  that.  And  she 
was  evidently  a  provoking  creature,  but — murder 
is  murder,  you  know.  He'll  probably  have  to  swing 
for  it." 

In  Katharine's   clenched  fists,  hidden   among  the 


KATHARINE   APPEALS   TO   WINSLOW     339 

0 

folds  of  her  gown,  her  nails  were  tearing  their  way 
into  her  soft  palms.  It  seemed  to  her  that  in  another 
minute  she  would  shriek  out  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 
Yet  when  she  spoke  it  was  with  the  same  deliberate 
calm.  "  We  must  prevent  that,  if  possible,"  she  said 
slowly. 

"  There's  very  little  that  can  be  done  in  a  place 
like  this,"  returned  Winslow.  "In  a  more  sophis 
ticated,  less  direct  community  he  would  probably 
be  got  off  on  a  quibble,  but  here  it  is  did  he  or  didn't 
he,  and  swing  him  up  to  the  first  lamp-post!  I've 
been  expecting  every  day  that  they'd  break  into  the 
jail  and  take  him." 

He  nonchalantly  flicked  a  bit  of  dust  from  the 
sleeve  of  his  coat.  Katharine's  eyes  blazed  under  the 
drooping  veil  of  their  long  lashes.  But  all  she  said 
was,  "  It  would  be  a  fairly  clever  piece  of  work  to  get 
him  off." 

Eugene  Winslow  started  and  gave  her  a  quick 
glance.  "  It  would,  wouldn't  it !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  You've  never  had  as  big  a  criminal  case  as  this, 
have  you?  "  she  inquired,  smothering  a  yawn.  "  Ex 
cuse  me ;  I  didn't  sleep  very  well  last  night.  Nor  did 
anyone  else.  Everyone's  nerves  are  upset.  I  didn't 
know  which  way  to  turn.  So  I  sent  for  you,"  she 
finished  brightly. 

"You  did  quite  right,"  he  answered,  with  more  of 
his  old  cordial  manner  than  he  had  hitherto  shown. 
"  You  were  asking  if  I'd  had  as  big  a  criminal  case  as 


340         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

this.     No,  I  haven't ;  they  used  to  go  to  Barker,  and 
since   he's   been    district   attorney    there   have    been 


none." 


"  Of  course,  if  the  prisoner  has  no  case 
gested  Katharine. 

"I  wouldn't  say  that,"  he  returned.  "But  it 
would  take  a  smart  lawyer  to  overcome  the  prejudices 
of  these  people.  It  might  be  done.  I  don't  say  it 
couldn't." 

"  I  should  think  that  sort  of  thing  would  be  a 
temptation  to  a  man,  just  to  show  that  he  could  do 
it,"  said  Katharine  reflectively. 

"It  is,  in  a  way,"  said  Winslow.  He  scrutinized 
her  sharply;  was  she  playing  a  part?  If  she  was,  it 
was  an  adroit  one.  She  was  leaning  back  in  her  chair 
now,  her  bright  hair  thrown  into  relief  by  its  dark, 
carved  headpiece,  her  hands  stretched  out  along  its 
arms.  He  could  not  see  her  eyes.  Katharine  had 
such  tell-tale  eyes.  He  wished  that  he  could  see  them. 
But  the  heavy  lids  concealed  them.  She  seemed  to 
be  studying  the  ruins  of  the  log  castle,  glinting  and 
glowing  on  the  hearth. 

"  You  used  to  grow  so  excited  over  the  '  big 
cases,'  "  she  pursued  dreamily. 

"I  don't  care  much,  nowadays,  that's  a  fact,"  he 
responded,  softening.  "  You  should  know  why." 

"How  should  I?"  she  asked.  "You  never  told 
me." 

"  Not  in  words,"  he  said  quickly.     "  Nor  did  you 


KATHARINE    APPEALS    TO    WINSLOW    341 

tell  me  in  words  that  you  had  no  further  use  for  me. 
You  did  not  need  to." 

"  How  very,  very  sensitive  you  are,"  she  said 
gently. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  he  said.     "  Too  sensitive,  perhaps." 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Was  I  too  sensitive  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  think — you  were,"  she  answered  faintly. 

Silence  again  intervened.  The  turret  of  the  log 
castle  fell  with  a  crash;  a  sudden  flame  leaped  up 
where  it  had  been. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  see  what  I  can  do  for  this 
fellow  ?  "  Winslow  asked. 

"  I  think  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  do,"  she 
answered. 

"  You  would  like  to  have  me  do  it  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  Yes,  I  should."  At  last  she  let  him  see  her  eyes. 
Clear,  unflinching,  steadfast,  they  met  his  own. 

"  That  is  enough,"  he  said,  rising.  "  I  will  send 
you  word  as  soon  as  I  have  seen  Vaughan."  She  held 
out  her  hand.  He  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"  You  will  hear  from  me,"  he  said.  "  And — I 
thank  you.  I  know  how  much  this  means,  from  you." 

She  listened  to  his  departing  footsteps  and  sud 
denly  grew  sick  at  heart. 

"  That  was  done — like  a  woman,"  she  said  to  her 
self.  "  It  could  not  have  been  done  in  any  other  way, 
and  it  may  be  the  very  worst  thing  that  could 
happen ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE   TRIAL 

WITHIN  an  hour  after Winslow  left  the  house 
a  note  from  him  was  put  into  Katharine's 
hands.  "  I  have  seen  Vaughan,"  he  wrote, 
"  and  have  been  accepted  as  his  counsel."  For  better 
or  for  worse  the  thing  was  done.  She  could  only 
await  the  consequences. 

The  trial  had  been  set  for  the  following  Tuesday. 
All  day  Monday  people  were  pouring  into  town. 
They  came  from  Ruby  Hill  and  Simpson's,  from 
Alpha  and  Palisade,  from  Lewis,  Galena  and  Battle 
Mountain.  The  hotels  and  the  boarding-houses 
would  not  hold  them  all:  they  were  housed  in  barns 
and  stampmills,  for  the  weather  was  bleak;  they 
could  not  camp  out-of-doors.  Mary  Henley  had 
been  prostrated  by  the  news.  Frank  had  decided  to 
remain  with  her,  but  when  Will  Dower  and  Minnie, 
now  Will's  wife,  had  driven  away  and  a  squad  of 
young  miners  had  followed  on  horseback,  Mary 
dragged  herself  out  of  bed.  "  I'm  going,"  she  said 
to  Frank,  "  if  it  kills  me." 

They  reached  Eureka  late  at  night,  but  the  town 
was  wideawake.  Groups  of  men  and  women  were 

342 


THE    TRIAL  343 


gathered  on  the  corners,  talking  together  in  low 
tones.  Now,  a  troop  of  horsemen  galloped  past,  or 
a  buggy  or  a  buckboard  rattled  down  the  street,  but 
there  was  no  confusion,  no  disorder.  A  detachment 
of  militia  had  been  sent  from  Battle  Mountain  in 
apprehension  of  irregularities,  but  thus  far  their 
services  had  not  been  required. 

Frank  found  a  room  for  himself  and  Mary  in  the 
house  of  a  friend  and  they  retired  to  it,  but  not  to 
sleep.  Hour  after  hour  they  listened  to  the  tramp, 
tramp  of  passersby,  the  murmur  of  voices,  the 
clatter  of  horses'  hoofs.  After  a  night  which  gave 
no  rest  and  a  breakfast  which  brought  no  appetite, 
Frank  declared  his  intention  of  going  to  the  jail. 

Mary  would  have  gone  with  him,  but  Frank  was 
resolute.  "  No,"  he  said.  "  You  have  a  hard  day 
before  you.  Stay  where  you  are,  and  keep  still,  if 
you  can."  For  Mary,  in  her  distress,  moved  con 
stantly  to  and  fro. 

He  came  back  shortly,  saying  the  prisoner  saw  no 
one,  by  his  own  expressed  desire. 

"When  is  the  trial?"  asked  Mary. 

"  Ten  o'clock.  They're  going  already,  and  it's 
only  half-past  eight.  The  courtroom  won't  begin  to 
hold  them  all." 

"  Can't  we  go,  now?  "  she  asked. 

"  And  wait  two  hours  ?  They're  never  on  time. 
No,  stay  here,  while  I  see  what  I  can  do  about  getting 
a  place  where  you  can  sit  down." 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


He  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  window  in  a  house 
overlooking  the  corner  on  which  the  courthouse 
stood.  Here  she  could  see  and  hear  as  much  as  he 
cared  to  have  her  see  and  hear,  and  would  not  be 
jostled  by  the  crowd. 

They  took  their  position  early,  but  already  the 
street  below  them  was  a  mass  of  moving  forms. 
Even  to  a  first  glance  it  was  apparent  that  this  was 
no  holiday  crowd.  There  were  greetings  between 
friends,  excited  talk,  but,  following  question  and 
answer,  a  great  gloom  settled  down  upon  the  vast 
company.  In  many  this  had  become  apathy.  They 
were  blind  and  deaf  to  what  went  on  around  them. 
They  were  dumb.  Others,  less  profoundly  moved, 
betrayed  extraordinary  earnestness  in  gait  and 
gesture  and  by  puffing  tremendous  clouds  of  smoke 
from  pipes  or  big  cigars.  Of  these  was  a  large  red- 
faced  man,  who  at  last  turned  his  restless  glance 
towards  the  window  containing  the  Henleys. 

"  There's  Judge  Weaver,"  exclaimed  Mary. 
"  He's  seen  us.  He's  coming  up." 

They  were  sitting  in  a  small  bedroom  opening  out 
of  the  hall,  in  company  with  half  a  dozen  others, 
f  men  and  women.  The  Judge  entered,  out  of  breath 
from  climbing  the  stairs.  "  Warm  morning ! "  he 
explained,  mopping  his  face  with  a  bright-bordered 
handkerchief.  "No?  Ain't  it?  Well,  Fve  been 
hurrying  some." 

"  Take    this    seat,    Judge,"    said    Frank,    rising. 


THE    TRIAL  315 


"  Yes,  I  insist.  Here's  another  for  me.  Why  aren't 
you  inside?  " 

The  Judge  glanced  uneasily  over  his  shoulder  at 
the  other  occupants  of  the  room  before  he  answered. 
"  I— couldn't!  " 

"  There's  Barker,"  he  said,  a  minute  later.  "  By 
Jupiter,  this  ought  to  sober  him !  They  say  he  ain't 
slept  a  wink  since  it  happened.  And  there's  Wins- 
low.  I  should  rather  had  Barker,  if  it  had  been  my 
case.  Must  be  tough  on  Barker  to  have  to  prosecute. 
It's  a  bad  business ! "  The  Judge  blew  his  nose 
loudly. 

Below,  in  the  street ,  a  man  looked  up  and  took  off 
his  hat.  It  was  Shed  Wellman.  "  He  can't  bring 
himself  to  go  in,  either,"  said  the  Judge.  "  I  just 
spoke  with  him.  He  can't  talk.  He  chokes  right 
up.  There  they  come,  now !  " 

A  murmur  ran  along  the  crowd  under  the  window. 
"  Stand  back !  "  called  a  policeman.  An  avenue  was 
made.  Through  it  two  men  advanced,  Mat  Kyle 
and  the  prisoner.  Still  in  his  suit  of  clerical  black, 
tall  and  straight,  marched  the  man  who  was  to  be 
tried  for  the  murder  of  his  wife  and  child.  There 
should  have  been,  by  all  the  laws  of  human  nature, 
only  feelings  of  horror  for  him.  Instead,  there  was 
a  great  pity.  Here  and  there  a  hiss  could  be  heard,  a 
malediction.  But  these  were  immediately  hushed. 
The  immense  crowd  which  surged  forward  to  the 
doors  of  the  courthouse  was  leavened  by  those  whom 


346         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

this  man  had  helped  and  comforted  and  ministered 
unto,  and  they  believed  in  him.  In  spite  of  every 
thing,  they  believed  in  him.  As  he  disappeared  within 
the  huge  doors  which  swung  open  to  receive  him  the 
buzz  of  comment  began.  "  He  never  done  it !  You 
can't  make  me  believe  't  he  did." 

"  PVaps  he  didn't  really  do  it,  but  they  say  he  can 
will  anybody  to  do  as  he  wants  'em  to." 

"Damn  nonsense!     What  you  talkin'  about?" 

"  Winslow  ain't  no  good ;  why  didn't  he  send  off  to 
Carson  City  o*  somewheres  for  a  lawyer?  " 

"  He  didn't  send  for  Winslow ;  Winslow  offered." 

"  He  don't  need  Winslow.  He  can  git  up  and 
plead  his  own  case." 

"  You  bet  he  can !  D'  you  hear  him  when  he  spoke 
that  night  over  Penrose  and  Bob  Gordon?  Warn't 
he  great?  " 

"  Bet  yer  life !  D'  you  hear  him  at  Charley 
Davenport's  funeral  ?  " 

"  Well,  now  ye're  shoutin' !  " 

"  Hush  up  there ;  we  can't  hear  what's  goin'  on 
inside." 

"  Couldn't,  anyway." 

"  Yes,  we  could.     They'll  pass  it  along." 

The  restless  sea  became  fixed  and  still.  Every  now 
and  then  a  man  leaned  forward  from  the  open  window 
and  told  a  man  on  the  steps  what  was  happening 
within,  and  the  man  on  the  steps  repeated  it  to  the 
crowd  in  the  street. 


THE    TRIAL  347  < 


Nothing  much  had  happened  yet.  Reminiscence 
and  anecdote  revived  again. 

"  D'  you  hear  how  he  knocked  out  Poole  that 
time?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say!     I  was  there" 

"There  ain't  nothin'  he  can't  do.  I  shouldn't 
be  s'prised  if  he  cleared  'em  out  in  there  and  run  for 
it." 

"  Keep  still !     They're  doin'  somethin' !  " 

"  Ain't  nuther." 

"They  be  too.  Look  at  that  man  in  the  winder? 
What's  he  say,  anyway  ?  " 

"  They're  readin'  the  indictment." 

"  Readin'  the  indictment." 

It  was  passed  along  the  crowd,  up  to  the  windows, 
where  the  Henleys  and  Judge  Weaver  sat. 

Following  it  came  the  next  piece  of  news. 

"  They've  called  the  prisoner."  This,  too,  was 
passed  along  to  the  window. 

"  What's  he  say  ?  "  asked  one  and  another ;  here  and 
there  could  be  caught  an  answer. 

"  Not  guilty,  of  course." 

"  S'pose  he's  a  blam-jam  idiot?  " 

"  S'pose  he'd  put  his  neck  in  the  noose?  " 

"  What's  the  man  in  the  window  saying  now  ?  " 

"  There's  something  the  matter?  " 

"What's  up?'9 

**  Somebody  get  hit,  you  say?  " 

"  Ask  Jem,  ask  'em,  down  there  in  front  ?  n 


348         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  What  did  he  do  like  that  for?  " 

The  man  in  the  window  had  thrown  up  his  arms 
with  a  sudden  impetuous  movement  denoting  amaze 
ment  and  dismay. 

The  man  below  him  repeated  the  gesture,  as  he 
received  the  news. 

Gesture  and  news  ran  together  through  the  crowd, 
in  ever-widening  circles,  like  those  formed  in  a  pool 
when  a  pebble  is  dropped  into  it. 

"  What?  What?  "  they  called  out,  on  the  farthest 
rim.  "What  did  you  say?" 

"Don't  believe  it?" 

"  'Tain't  so." 

"  'Tis  too ;  that  man  in  the  window  said  so." 

«  He  lied." 

"No,  he  didn't.  Hear  that!  Hear  that!"  A 
dull  murmur  issued  from  the  courtroom,  a  confused 
noise,  the  sound  of  many  voices. 

"  They  ain't  examining  witnesses,  now  I  tell  you !  " 

"  What  is  it,  what  does  he  say?  " 

«  The  Judge  is " 

"  He  ain't— oh,  my  God !  " 

Frank  Henley  leaned  far  over  the  window  sill  into 
the  street.  "  Here,  here!  Look  up  here,  some 
body!  "  he  called  hoarsely.  His  tongue  was  thick  in 
his  mouth.  But  no  one  noticed  him.  Every  eye  was 
on  the  great  door  opposite,  now  swung  open  again. 

"  They're  comin'  out !  They're  comin'  out !  "  the 
murmur  ran  along  the  crowd. 


THE    TRIAL  319 


Judge  Weaver  thrust  Frank  aside  and  let  out  a 
roar  like  that  of  a  mad  bull. 

"  What — the  devil's — happened?  "  he  shouted. 

A  miner  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd  looked  up, 
shifted  his  quid,  "  Prisoner's  pled  guilty ! "  he 
answered. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

BROTHER    AND    SISTER 

THE    houseful    of   women    on    Richmond    Hill 
awaited    anxiously    the    return   of    the    men. 
Every  one  of  them  had  gone  to  the  court 
house,  from  Arthur  to  the  young  "  greenhorn  "  who 
helped  Jerry  with  the  horses. 

"  They'll  probably  take  luncheon  down  town,"  said 
Miss  Emmeline,  as  the  noon  hour  approached. 
"  They  won't  be  home  much  before  night — why,  there 
they  are,  now !  " 

The  four  men  were  walking  slowly  up  the  hill, 
Arthur  and  Ned  Wilkins  in  front,  Jerry  and  his  as 
sistant  behind.  Their  heads  were  down,  their  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground.  They  halted  outside,  and  Arthur 
and  Ned  entered  into  earnest  conversation.  Jerry 
and  his  companion  skulked  around  to  the  barn,  as  if 
afraid  of  being  intercepted. 

"Why  don't  they  come  in  and  tell  us?"  fretted 
Mabel,  voicing  Katharine's  mute  misery.  "  Arthur!  " 
she  called  at  length. 

He  came,  lagging. 

"  Don't  you  know  we're  crazy  to  hear  about  every 
thing!"  she  complained. 

350 


BROTHER    AND    SISTER  351 

Still  he  hesitated,  glancing  at  Katharine.  The 
faces  before  him  paled. 

"  He  isn't  convicted!  "  cried  Miss  Emmeline. 

"  Didn't  Mr.  Winslow  win  ? "  inquired  Mabel, 
speaking  for  Katharine. 

"  Winslow  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it,"  re 
turned  her  husband. 

"  Nothing  to  do  with  it,  when  he  is  counsel  for  the 
defense?  "  she  pursued.  "How  does  it  happen  that 
he  had  nothing  to  do  with  it?  Arthur,  do  answer  us. 
Can't  you  speak?" 

"  It  was  all  Vaughan's  own  doing,"  Arthur  replied 
with  an  effort.  "  He — pleaded  guilty,  without  exten 
uation.  He  did  not  confess  or  explain.  He  would 
say  nothing,  except  that  he  was  guilty." 

"  And  the  sentence  ?  "  It  was  Katharine  who  now 
spoke.  They  all  turned  and  looked  at  her. 

"  The  extreme  penalty,"  said  Arthur  solemnly. 
"  Come,  Katharine,  come  with  me."  He  put  his  arm 
around  her.  But  she  pulled  away. 

Her  eyes  were  fixed  in  a  stare.  Her  face  was  like 
marble. 

"  I'm  going — to  the  jail!  "  she  said  in  a  strange, 
hard  voice. 

"  No,  Katharine,  come  with  me,"  he  repeated.  He 
drew  her  into  her  own  room  and  shut  the  door. 

"  I  tell  you  I  am  going  to  the  jail,"  she  repeated. 
Her  eyes  were  feverishly  bright.  "  I  don't  care  who 
sees  me.  I  don't  care  who  knows." 


THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 


"  Yes,  you  do,"  he  answered  steadily.  "  You 
think  just  now  that  you  don't,  but  you  do.  If  I 
should  let  you  go  down  there,  into  that  mob  hanging 
around  the  door  of  the  j  ail,  they  would  say  '  there 
she  comes,  the  other  woman!  Yes,  they  would, 
Katharine.  You  could  not  bear  it." 

"I  could  bear  anything,"  she  answered  in  a  voice 
as  steady  as  his  own.  "  I  don't  care  what  they  say,  if 
I  can  help  —  him." 

"  You  wouldn't  help  him  ;  you  would  only  make 
matters  worse.  He  would  have  to  bear  that  in  addi 
tion  to  the  rest,  hearing  you  —  insulted,  perhaps. 
And  his  own  case  would  grow  so  much  the  blacker,  if 
people  saw  you  there." 

"  But  —  Arthur  —  at  a  time  like  this  —  my  place  is  — 
there!  "  Her  lips  quivered  piteously. 

"  Your  place  is  here,"  he  answered  gravely, 
"  under  your  brother's  roof,  under  your  brother's  pro 
tection." 

The  appeal  of  his  tenderness  touched  her,  but  only 
for  the  moment.  She  drooped,  but  instantly  rose 
again. 

"  You  make  a  coward  of  me,"  she  cried.  "  Why 
should  I  shield  myself?  Why  should  I  be  protected, 
when  he  is  at  the  mercy  of  that  horde!  Arthur, 
Arthur,  if  it  were  you,  if  it  were  Mabel  -  " 

Her  own  face  looked  back  at  her,  molded  into  mas 
culine  lines,  the  same  honest,  gray  eyes,  the  same 
lovable  mouth,  strengthened. 


BROTHER    AND    SISTER  353 

"  If  it  were  I,  if  it  were  Mabel,  I  could  not  bear 
to  have  her  come  to  me.  I  could  not  endure  to  see 
her  suffer,  knowing  that  I  was  the  cause.  Give  the 
man  a  chance,  Kate!  Be  a  man  yourself!  He  has 
chosen  this  way.  He  knows  why.  He  could  easily 
have  escaped." 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  head  and  sank  into  a 
chair — crouched  there,  like  one  hurt  unto  death.  She 
did  not  weep,  but  great,  dry  sobs  tore  their  way 
through  her,  convulsing  the  delicate  frame.  Arthur 
watched  her,  his  own  heart  yielding  compassionate  re 
sponse;  but  he  did  not  for  an  instant  relax  the  grip 
of  his  will  upon  hers  until  he  knew  that  hers  had  sur 
rendered.  Then  he  went  out  and  left  her  there,  alone. 

Mabel  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  hall.  She  went 
up  to  him  and  put  her  soft,  round,  clinging  arms 
about  his  neck.  Oh,  the  human  touch  was  good  after 
that  struggle!  He  kissed  her  again  and  again, 
gratefully. 

"  Shall  I  go  to  her?  "  Mabel  whispered.  He  shook 
his  head.  "  Better  leave  her  to  herself,  for  a  while." 

"  She  won't  do — anything — rash?  " 

"  Oh,  no."  He  knew  the  stuff  of  which  Katharine 
was  made,  he  told  himself. 

He  did  know,  a  part,  but  not  the  whole,  Katharine 
being  a  woman. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

PROMETHEUS  BOUND 

IN  the  great,  gray  structure,  massive  as  a  fort 
ress,  where  Eureka  confined  her  criminals, 
Clement  Vaughan  was  drinking  deep  of  the 
bitterest  of  all  bitter  cups,  the  anguish  he  had 
caused  his  friends.  He  felt  at  first  that  he  could  not 
endure  it,  could  not  bear  their  pain,  but,  hearing  out 
side  the  door  of  his  cell  the  sobbing  of  poor  Minnie 
Dower,  he  said  to  the  guard,  "  Let  her  come  in." 

Minnie  rushed  into  the  room  and  flung  herself  on 
her  knees,  seizing  his  hand  and  pressing  it  to  her. 
Will  followed,  winking  hard  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

"  I'll  never  believe  it,"  sobbed  Minnie.  "  And  if 
you  did  do  it,  you  did  perfectly  right!  "  She  was 
like  a  frantic  child. 

He  laid  his  free  hand  upon  her  head.  She  quieted 
under  his  touch.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Vaughan,"  she  murmured, 
looking  up  at  him  with  streaming  eyes.  "  You  won't 
let  them — you'll  run  away!  Promise  me  that  you 
will !  Oh,  I  can't  bear  it !  " 

Will  drew  near  and  tried  to  exercise  what  feeble 
authority  he  possessed.  "  Come,  come,  Min,"  he 
pleaded.  "  You  mustn't !  Min !  " 

354 


PROMETHEUS    BOUND  355 

Clement  lifted  her  to  her  feet  and  gently  put  her 
into  Will's  arms.  "  Take  her  home,"  he  said. 
"  And — comfort  her." 

They  met  the  Henleys  at  the  door. 

This  was  harder  yet.  In  their  blanched  faces 
Clement  read  the  sleepless  nights,  the  lack  of  food,  the 
constant  strain,  how  their  hearts  had  bled.  For  their 
sakes  he  made  a  mighty  effort  at  self-control.  "  You 
see — the  work  was  too  big  for  me,  Mary,"  he  said, 
taking  her  hand. 

Both  men  thought  she  was  going  to  fall.  But  she 
recovered  herself.  "  It  was  not  too  big  for  you, 
Clement,"  she  said  heroically.  "  To  face  what  you 
have  faced,  as  you  have  faced  it,  is  greater  than  any 
work  you  ever  did.  It  is  your  work.  It  will  pre 
serve  your  words,  unforgotten."  There  was  the  ring 
of  prophecy  in  her  voice,  the  gaze  of  the  seer  was 
in  her  eyes. 

Clement  responded  to  them  as  he  had  always  re 
sponded.  His  spirit  answered  the  challenge  of  hers. 

"  God  bless  you,  Mary !  "  he  said  fervently. 

Frank  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  in  amazement. 
He  had  feared,  dreaded,  this  interview,  and  here  they 
were,  these  two,  one  to  be  hanged  on  the  morrow,  the 
other,  an  adopted  sister,  a  companion  for  years — 
both  calmer  than  Frank  himself ! 

Clement  turned  to  him.  "There  are  some  things 
I  want  you  to  attend  to,"  he  said.  "  Let  Mary  go 
through  my  books  and  select  what  she  would  like  to 


356         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

have.  Send  the  rest  back  home ;  no  one  would  care 
for  them  here.  An  old  friend  of  mine  there  will  prize 
them.  This  is  his  address."  He  wrote  a  name  on  a 
card  and  handed  it  to  Frank.  "  You  will  like  to  have 
my  desk  and  chair,"  he  pursued.  "And  there  is  a 
box  of  music  which  I  wish  to  go  to  Mrs.  Katharine 
Chisholm,  on  Richmond  Hill." 

Mary  colored  faintly.  She  had  heard  some  of  the 
talk. 

"  That  is  all,"  said  Clement.  "  I  am  a  poor  man, 
as  you  know." 

He  gave  a  hand  to  each.  They  stood  together,  the 
three. 

"  For  the  last  time,"  each  was  saying  silently, 
"  for  the  last  time ;"  and  the  hours  they  had  spent  to 
gether,  the  joys  they  had  shared,  the  troubles  they 
had  divided,  came  back  upon  them  in  a  flood. 

Mary  was  the  first  to  break  away.  She  put  her 
arms  around  Clement's  neck  and  drew  him  down  to 
her,  kissed  him  on  brow  and  lips  and  eyes,  the  sign  of 
the  cross.  "  I  shall  be  with  you,"  she  whispered, 
"  all  the  way." 

She  went  out  quickly.  Frank  lingered  behind. 
"  The  boys  haven't  given  up,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"They'll  be  here  some  time  to-night."  Before 
Clement  could  reply,  he  was  gone. 

Judge  Weaver  came,  then,  and  Lou  Pugh,  Jerry 
Flynn,  and  Mike,  with  Mary,  weeping  loudly.  Shed 
Wellman  came  as  far  as  the  door,  but  retreated, 


PROMETHEUS    BOUND  357 

"  blubberm'  like  a  great  calf,"  he  told  Sarah  when  she 
reproached  him  for  not  seeing  the  prisoner. 

Barker  did  not  appear,  and  no  one  had  seen  Jack 
since  the  trial.  But  Dr.  Addison  was  there,  and 
Ricker,  the  Cornish  preacher.  Nearly  everyone  sug 
gested  some  way  of  escape. 

Long  after  they  had  gone  the  air  seemed  full  of 
their  offers  of  help,  their  cries  of  sympathy. 

Poor  mourning  Spirits  of  the  Air  and  of  the  Wave ! 

Vaughan  flung  himself  on  his  cot  and  tried  in  vain 
to  shut  out  the  sound  of  their  voices.  Another  Prome 
theus,  he  lay  there,  chained  to  the  rock  of  his  punish 
ment,  preyed  on  by  the  vulture  of  his  remorse. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

THE    DEATH-WATCH 


Y  •  ^  HE  boys  "  came,  that  night,  as  Frank  Hen- 

I  ley  said  they  would,  twenty  or  more,  clatter 
ing  up  to  the  door  of  the  jail  and  demand 
ing  the  jailer.  He  came  out,  blustering. 

"  Give  us  your  keys,"  called  the  leader,  dismount 
ing.  He  had  a  handkerchief  cut  into  eyeslits  over 
his  face,  but  the  shoulders  and  the  swagger  were  un 
mistakably  Dick  Dale's. 

The  jailer  swore  mightily  and  gave  up  the  keys. 
Mat  Kyle  appeared.  "  Look-a-here,  boys,  this  ain't 
goin'  to  do,"  he  protested  weakly. 

"  Shut  up,"  returned  the  visitor  good-humoredly. 
"You  know  what  we  want.  It'll  save  time  and  jaw 
if  you  take  me  where  I'm  bound  to  go." 

Mat  led  the  way  to  Vaughan's  cell,  protesting 
loudly.  The  youngster  strode  after  him,  rapped 
deferentially  at  the  door  and  then  opened  it. 

Vaughan  received  him  with  a  smile.  He  had  been 
looking  down  at  the  rescuing  party  from  the  window. 
How  like  a  fifteenth-century  romance  it  all  was ! 

"  We  don't  need  you,  Mat,"  said  the  visitor,  closing 
the  door  in  the  sheriff's  face. 

"  The  boys   are  a-waiting  for  you,"  he  said  to 

358 


THE    DEATH-WATCH  359 

Vaughan.     "  They'll  take  you  anywhere  you  want  to 

go." 

"  I  can't  go,  Dick,"  gaid  the  prisoner  quietly. 
"  You  know  I  can't." 

"  I  don't  see  why  not,"  returned  the  young  man 
impatiently.  "  There  ain't  a  soul  in  town  but 
expects  and  wants  you  to,  'less  it's  that  damn  out-of- 
town  militia " 

"  Hurry  up!  "  called  a  voice  from  below, 

"  I  can't  go,  Dick,  I  can't,"  said  Vaughan.  "  You 
wouldn't  have  any  respect  for  me  if  I  did.  I 
shouldn't  have  any  for  myself.  What,  run  away?  " 

"  It  ain't  running  away,"  said  Dick.  "  It's  being 
carried  off.  We're  going  to  carry  you  off — you 
don't  understand.  There  ain't  any  time  to  lose. 
This  is  your  last  show.  The  thing  will  go  through!  " 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Vaughan. 

"  You  know  it  and— Oh,  my  God ! "  cried  Dick. 

"  Hurry  up!  "  called  the  voice  from  below. 

Dick  made  a  stride  towards  the  prisoner.  "  Par 
son,"  he  said  desperately,  "  you've  got  to  go,  there's 
no  use  talkin'." 

Vaughan  drew  back  and  faced  him.  "  Dick,  if 
you  carry  me  away  and  prevent — justice,  as  God 
lives,  I  will  come  back!" 

A  whistle  blew  shrilly  in  the  yard:  the  signal  of 
danger. 

"  There  they  are,  now ! "  exclaimed  the  would-be 
rescuer  and  dashed  from  the  room.  There  were 


360         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

sounds  indicating  the  approach  of  another  party  of 
horsemen — shouts,  the  popping  of  revolvers,  then  Dick 
and  his  company  galloped  away,  followed  by  the 
militia. 

Vaughan  listened  till  the  last  hoofbeat  was  stilled, 
then  resigned  himself  to  the  loneliness  and  the  silence. 
It  was  not  a  bright  night,  but  there  were  stars,  and 
the  fires  of  the  Richmond  Mills  lit  up  the  space  near 
and  the  overhanging  sky.  At  intervals  the  flame 
leaped  up,  receiving  the  ore,  and  the  country  around 
and  the  heavens  were  dyed  red  with  the  light  of  it. 

"  Cast  thy  gold  into  the  furnace,"  sang  the  inner, 
remote,  hidden  self  of  the  watcher,  the  inaccessible 
self  that  sings  and  repeats  phrases  when  the  outer 
self  may  be  agonizing  or  palsied  "  Cast  thy  gold 
into  the  furnace !  " 

The  relentless,  devouring  flame — how  cruel  it  was ! 
The  sacrifice — how  complete,  how  like  his  own ! 

Ah,  it  was  cruel !  With  all  the  crowding  eloquence 
thrust  back  in  him  and  sealed,  with  all  the  eager, 
vitalizing  sympathy  in  him  frozen,  to  be  hurled  out, 
just  as  he  was  beginning  to  know  what  life  meant  to 
these  men  and  women,  just  as  he  was  learning  their 
actual  needs — how  abnormal,  unnatural,  uncalled 
for  it  seemed! 

But — were  words  all,  however  eloquent?  Was  sym 
pathy  all,  however  warm  and  true?  What  of  the 
uian?  What  of  the  man? 

The  man,  he  knew,  had  failed.     There  was  just 


THE    DEATH-WATCH  361 

one  more  chance  given  him  to  "  make  good,"  to  rec 
ognize  justice,  to  surrender  the  due,  to  pay  the 
penalty.  Better  that,  better  a  thousand  times  the 
swift,  sharp  stroke !  Silenced,  the  voice  would  have 
given  no  uncertain  sound !  Suffered  through,  the  life 
would  leave  a  meaning ! 

Here  would  be  an  appeal  for  justice,  for  right 
living,  stronger  than  any  plea  his  lips  could  frame ! 

And  to  her,  the  woman  who  had  been  heart  of  his 
heart,  life  of  his  life,  in  that  brief  moment  of  their 
mutual  recognition,  to  her  also  in  no  other  way  could 
he  "  make  good,"  in  no  other  way  could  he  insure  to 
her  the  preservation  of  what  was  pure  and  true  and 
good  in  their  love.  To  stay,  to  live,  to  yield,  as 
would  be  inevitable — Inevitable?  With  every  pulse 
in  him  he  responded  to  the  thought  of  possessing  her, 
of  being  possessed  by  her. 

But  she  would  always  feel  that  he  had  sinned,  in 
thought,  that  day — that  she  had  sinned  because  of 
him.  No,  no !  No,  no  ! 

"  Cast  thy  gold  into  the  furnace  1 "  sang  the  inner 
self.  "  That  will  I,"  answered  the  outer  self.  "  The 
gold  of  my  purpose,  however  mistaken,  the  gold  of 
my  service,  however  imperfect,  the  gold  of  my  love 
for  her,  however  alloyed,  the  gold  of  my  desire  for 
thee,  O  my  God !  " 

The  flames  rose  and  sank,  struggled  and  gave  way, 
as  the  fire  in  the  street  had  done  on  the  night  of  the 
service  at  Lou  Pogh**. 


362         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  '  Touch  my  lips  with  a  live  coal  from  off  thine 
altar,'  "  he  had  prayed  then. 

His  lips!  Now  the  penetrating,  cleansing  fire 
burned  to  his  soul ! 

Steps  came  and  went,  came  and  went  again.  Out 
side,  in  the  corridor,  Mat  Kyle,  longing  to  serve, 
fearing  to  intrude,  in  an  agony  of  sympathy,  ap 
proached  and  retreated.  At  last  Vaughan  heard  him 
and  spoke. 

"  Come  in,  Mat,"  he  called.  "  Come  in,  good,  kind 
friend!" 

The  sheriff  entered.  The  experiences  of  the  last 
week  had  told  on  him.  His  round,  stolid  face  had 
lengthened,  sharpened.  He  had  been  quickened  by 
what  he  had  witnessed  and  felt. 

"  I  didn't  know  but  you  might — want  somethin' !  " 
he  faltered. 

"What  time  is  it?"  asked  Vaughan. 

"  After  ten.  'Twarn't  but  half -past  eight  when  the 
boys  was  here.  'S  there  anything  I  can  do?  Any 
body  you  wanter  see?  Ricker  said  he'd  come  any 
minute  you  said  the  word." 

"  I'd  rather  you  to  shrive  me  than  any  priest, 
Mat,"  Vaughan  replied. 

The  idea  caught  his  fancy.  It  would  not  be  hard 
to  talk  to  this  kind,  simple-hearted  soul.  He  would 
like  to  leave  a  message. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said  to  the  sheriff.  "  And  let  me 
say  my  last  words  to  you." 


THE    DEATH-WATCH  363 

Mat  sat  down  awkwardly,  his  fat  hands  on  his 
knees.  His  heart  was  thumping  away,  like  a  steel 
hammer,  under  his  gaudy  waistcoat ;  there  was  a  lump 
in  his  throat  which  he  could  not  swallow.  He  would 
rather  be  put  to  the  torture  than  to  sit  here  and  feel 
like  this,  but  if  'twould  ease  the  Parson  any  to  talk, 
by  geeswax,  he  would  stand  it ! 

"  They  may  ask  you — afterwards — what  I  said," 
pursued  Vaughan.  "  I  won't  burden  your  memory 
with  a  lot  of  words.  It  isn't  necessary.  I'll  leave 
only  a  short  message  to  those  who  will  care  enough  to 
ask  you'what  I  said.  Tell  them  this:  It  isn't  what 
a  man  says  or  does,  but  what  he  thinks!  Tell  them, 
what  a  man  thinks!  " 

Mat  looked  wise.  He  couldn't  for  the  life  of  him 
see  what  thinking  had  to  do  with  committing  murder 
and  being  hanged  for  it,  but  perhaps  the  Parson  would 
explain.  To  Mat,  thinking  meant  sitting  down  and 
getting  all  snarled  up,  as  he  was  now.  What  did  it 
amount  to  anyway?  But,  there,  if  it  eased  the 
Parson  any  to  talk,  let  him  talk! 

"  It  is  the  secret  thought  that  kills,"  pursued 
Vaughan.  "  /  hated — therefore  I  was  a  murderer !  " 

Mat  winked  hard.  Just  what  did  the  Parson 
mean.  Therefore — what  did  he  mean  by  that? 

"  Hold  on,  Parson,"  he  exclaimed,  leaning  for 
ward,  his  face  very  red,  his  breath  shortened  by  his 
effort  to  understand.  "  Didn't  yer — didn't  yer  push 
her  over?  " 


364         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  No,"  said  Vaughan  sadly,  "  she  jumped.  She 
said  it  was  my  fault  and  that  she  hoped  I'd  be  hanged 
for  it.  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

Mat  was  on  his  feet.  "  Say  that  again,"  he  ex 
claimed  excitedly.  "  You  didn't  push  her  over?  " 

"  No." 

"  She— jumped?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You'll  have  to  excuse  me.  I've  got  somethin'  to 
do!  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

JACK    INTERVENES 

JACK  PERRY,  ain't  you  never  comin'  to  bed?  " 
There  was  no   answer  from  the  huge,  brood 
ing  figure  by  the  window.     It  had  sat  there 
without  moving  since  darkness  fell. 

"Jack,  I  wish't  you'd  answer  me?  " 

"  What  do  you  want,  Marthy  ?  " 

"Do  you  know  it's  'most  twelve  o'clock?  " 

"  I  don't  care  if  it's  fourteen  o'clock ! "  was  the 
ungracious  response. 

"  Marthy  "  sighed  and  turned  again  to  her  pillow. 

A  company  of  horsemen  rode  up  to  the  saloon  below 
and  alighted.  At  the  same  time,  a  short,  thick-set 
figure  emerged  from  the  shadows  into  the  light  of  the 
lamp. 

"Mat  Kyle!  What's  he  doin'  here?"  ejaculated 
the  man  by  the  window. 

The  group  conferred  earnestly,  looking  up  and 
down  the  street.  Finally  they  all  disappeared  in  the 
mysterious  regions  below. 

Presently  someone  could  be  heard  ascending  the 
stairs.  There  came  a  rap  at  the  door.  Jack  flung 
it  open  and  Mat  Kyle  blundered  into  the  room. 

365 


366         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

Jack  seized  him  by  both  arms.  "  What's  hap 
pened  ?  Out  with  it !  "  he  exclaimed  savagely.  "  Don't 
stand  there  like  a  bump  on  a  log!  Out  with  it!  I 
can  hear  anything  after  what  I've  heard  for  the  past 
three  days.  Have  they  lynched  him?" 

"No,  no,  Jack;  'tain't  nothin'  o'  that  kind," 
answered  the  sheriff  soothingly. 

"  Then  he's  dead,"  said  Jack  simply.  "  I  know. 
You  needn't  tell  me.  He's  dead.  He  couldn't  stand 
what  he's  stood  an'  live.  God  have  mercy  on  us,  what 
we  can  stand !  "  His  hold  relaxed.  He  drew  off , 
breathing  heavily. 

"  No,  he  ain't  dead,"  returned  the  sheriff.  "  He's 
just  told  me — he  didn't  do  it!  " 

Jack  was  upon  him  again  in  a  flash,  pinning  him  to 
the  wall. 

"  What ?     What ?  "  he  gasped.     "  Didn't  do  it?  " 

"No,  she — she  jumped.  An'  she  told  him  she 
hoped  he'd  swing  for  it — as  he's  likely  to,  'less  we 
think  o'  somethin'  putty  tarn  quick.  Think  o'  some- 
thin',  Jack !  For  God's  sake,  think  o'  somethin' !  " 

Think  of  something,  with  a  brain  which  had  been 
hammered  sore  with  thinking,  planning,  remembering, 
controlling,  with  a  heart  that  ached  as  the  heart  of 
Brutus  ached  when  he  condemned  his  sons?  Think  of 
something ! 

"  The  boys  has  tried  once  to-night  to  get  him  to 
leave,"  faltered  Mat.  "  But  you  couldn't  draw  him 
out  with  a  corkscrew.  They're  waitin'  downstairs, 


JACK    INTERVENES  367 

they're  ready  for  anythin'.  But  the  militia's  out 
after  'em.  There's  a  big  resk.  If  you  can  only  think 
o'  somethin'." 

Think?     With  a  brain  like  punk! 

"  What  an  airth "  came  a  querulous  voice  from 

the  bedroom.  A  nightcapped  head  appeared  in  the 
doorway  and  was  suddenly  withdrawn,  with  an  "  Oh, 
my  suzi  "  of  consternation. 

By  just  such  trifling  interventions  are  lives  saved. 
Jack  laughed,  and  that  laugh  sent  fresh  currents  of 
renewed  power  through  him. 

"  Who's  downstairs  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"Dick,  Jo,  Tim — all  the  boys,"  answered  Mat. 

"Tell  'em  to  come  up.  Those  three.  I  don't 
want  anybody  else." 

He  was  out  of  his  coat,  had  snapped  off  his  sus 
penders  and  thrown  them  into  a  corner  before  Mat 
had  left  the  room. 

"  Marthy,"  he  called,  "  bring  my  boots." 

The  nightcapped  head  again  appeared  and  cau 
tiously  inspected  the  surroundings. 

"  Come  along,"  he  exclaimed  good-humoredly. 
"  There  ain't  nobody  here." 

"  I've  got  to  git  on  some  does,"  she  said  petulantly. 
After  an  interval  lasting  several  minutes  she  emerged, 
arrayed  in  a  chintz  dressing-gown  covered  with 
impossible  flowers.  The  nightcap  was  still  on  her 
head.  The  boots  were  in  her  hand.  She  handed  them 
to  him.  He  put  them  on. 


368         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  Belt,"  he  ordered. 

She  brought  it. 

"  Corduroy   coat." 

It  was  forthcoming. 

When  Mat  returned  with  the  three  young  men,  he 
stood  there,  Jack  Perry  of  old,  booted,  belted, 
equipped  and  ready. 

They  came  in,  full  of  excitement.     Before  their 
bustling  entrance  Marthy  broke  and  fled. 
.     "  We  can  pick  him  right  up,"  said  Tim.     "  He 
ain't  heavy,  to  speak  of." 

"  An'  tie  him  on  behind  one  of  us,"  said  Jo0  "  He 
can  ride  behind  me." 

"  An'  go — like  the  devil,"  finished  Dick  "  There 
ain't  one  of  those  militia  fellers  can  sit  a  horse.  They 
never'd  know  which  way  we  went." 

"  Be  calm,  boys,"  said  Jack.  "  Be  calm.  Be  calm 
as  hell!  There  ain't  no  carryin'  off  in -this.  It's 
goin'  to  be  work,  hard,  back-breakin'  work,  and  you've 
got  to  stay  with  it !  " 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Dick. 

"Betcher  life,"  said  Jo. 

"  We've  got  just  ten  hours  to  run  to  Palisade,  see 
the  governor  and  get  back,"  said  Jack.  "  He's  goin' 
to  be  there  to-night." 

"  The  eleven-thirty's  gone,"  said  Jo. 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Jack.  "  We've  got  to  take 
our  own  private  conveyance."  His  voice  had  re 
gained  its  invincible  drawl.  "  Jo,  go  over  to  Me- 


JACK    INTERVENES  369 

Clintock's  and  tell  the  station  agent — he  bunks  there, 
you'd  ought  to  know  him,  namer's  Jones — that  Jack 
Perry  wants  a  handcar.  Jo,  you  go  dig  up  the  tele 
graph  operator — he's  at  the  station — and  tell  him 
Jack  Perry  says  to  clear  the  tracks  to  Palisade. 
Tim,  you  go  along  with  Jo.  I  wanter  talk  with  Mat." 

The  three  hurried  away.  Jack  put  his  head  in  at 
the  bedroom  door. 

"  So  long,  Marth !  "  he  called  affectionately.  "  I'll 
be  back — when  I  get  here." 

The  two  men  tramped  heavily  down  the  stairs. 
Lights  were  out  in  the  saloon.  Pere  Hyacinthe  was 
closing.  There  was  no  one  in  the  street.  The 
curiosity,  the  agitation,  the  anguish  that  had  vibrated 
through  the  town  during  the  last  three  days  were 
hushed  now.  Everyone  was  awaiting  the  final  act  of 
the  tragedy  on  the  morrow. 

Jack  laid  his  hand  on  his  friend's  arm.  "  If  you've 
got  any  more  to  tell  me,"  he  said,  "  tell  it  now.  I've 
got  to  know  what  to  say  to  the  governor." 

"'Twas  this  way,"  said  Mat  solemnly.  "Parson 
was  givin'  me  his  last  words.  He  was  sayin'  'twasn't 
what  a  man  did  alwuz,  that  thought  could  kill! 
D'  you  ever  look  at  it  in  that  light,  Jack?  What  do 
you  think?  " 

"Go  on,  what  did  he  say?"  returned  Jack  im 
patiently.  "  There  ain't  any  time  to  fool  away  on 
what  7  think!" 

"That's   what  he   said,"   returned  Mat  with  em- 


370         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

phasis.  "  He  says,  '  I  hated  her,  consequentially  I'm 
a  murderer!  ' 

"  But  he  said  she  jumped?  " 

"  That's  what  I  was  tellin'  you,  over  'n5  over." 

"  All  right,  sir.  Now,"  Jack  gripped  his  friend's 
arm,  "  you  just  more'n  holler  for  a  Special  Provi 
dence  ! " 

"  What's  them  ?  "  inquired  the  sheriff,  bewildered. 

"  That's  when  the  Old  Gentleman  steps  in.  We 
can't  get  that  blam-jam  handcar  up  to  Palisade  and 
back  without  somethin'  more'n  four-man  power. 
Parson  says  there  is  such  things — him  and  me  talked 
it  over  once — but  he  said,  too,  that  't  ain't  any  sign 
the  Old  Gentleman  is  down  on  you  if  He  does  let  you 
be  swung  into  eternity  by  a  lot  of  damn  fools !  "  Jack 
groaned.  "  An'  I  a-pridin'  myself  on  '  seein'  clear  ' !  " 

They  were  on  N  Street  now,  where  the  embankment 
runs  sheer  to  the  tracks  below.  A  faint,  languid, 
last-quarter  moon  was  pricking  through  the  trees. 
Here  their  roads  separated,  Jack's  to  the  station, 
Mat's  to  the  jail. 

"  I'll  wait  here  till  you  come  along,"  said  Mat. 

"  Another  thing,"  exclaimed  his  companion.  "  You 
don't  wanter  let  'em  be  too  all-fired  prompt!  Give 
me  all  the  time  you  can.  Don't  let  'em  be  in  a 
hurry." 

"  They  won't  be  in  a  hurry,"  returned  the  sheriff 
grimly.  "  There  ain't  nobody  that  hankers  for  the 
job." 


JACK    INTERVENES  371 

"  Well,  so  long. — Now,  you  do  's  I  tell  you." 

"  I  won't  let  'em  hurry." 

"  I  mean  the  other — you  know — the  Special  Prov 
idence  racket." 

"Oh!" 

"  Get  right  at  it,  Mat.  Holler  for  all  you're 
worth!  D'ye  hear?  " 

"All  right,  Jack." 

They  parted. 

Mat  took  his  position  under  a  greasewood  and 
leaned  against  the  rough  trunk,  waiting.  A  wind 
came  up  the  canyon,  driving  the  dead  leaves  before 
it.  It  would  be  in  their  faces,  but  they  would  not 
mind ;  they  would  not  mind  anything,  so  they  "  won 
out." 

Hark!  that  is  not  the  wind,  that  distant  rumble. 
Nor  is  it  thunder.  The  moon  shines.  The  stars  are 
out.  There  is  not  a  cloud. 

It  is — it  is — a  car  upon  the  track !  Nearer,  nearer 
it  comes !  What  time  they  are  making ! 

Far  away  among  the  trees  a  lantern  gleams.  It 
comes  steadily  on.  Behind  it  a  dark  mass  can  be 
distinguished,  moving  up  and  down,  up  and  down, 
with  the  regularity  of  a  machine  but  with  a  certain 
impassioned  persistence  that  tells  of  life.  Nearer, 
nearer  it  comes.  The  lantern  blazes  out;  the  rails 
show,  twin  lines  of  light.  The  rumble  grows  into  a 
beat.  The  wheels  clatter  upon  the  track,  distinct 
and  near. 


372         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

There  they  are,  there  they  are,  every  back  bent, 
every  arm  tense,  pumping  for  dear  life ! 

Mat  cheers.  They  answer  hoarsely.  They  whizz 
past.  The  light  of  the  lantern  picks  out  the  leaves 
on  the  trees,  lets  go,  fades,  is  lost.  The  clatter  grows 
fainter,  blends  into  a  rumble  again,  ceases.  They 
are  gone ! 

Mat  falls  upon  his  knees,  remembering  his  prom 
ise.  "  O  Lord,"  he  gasps,  "  O  Lord!  " 

This  is  all  his  prayer ;  no  invocation,  no  appeal,  no 
Amen.  Only  that  great  tumultuous  sigh  for  help. 

But  he  feels  that  he  has  laid  hold  on  a  Strength 
which  responds.  And  the  men  on  the  handcar  feel 
— a  difference. 

"  The  wind's  changed,"  pants  Jack,  still  pumping. 
"  'Tain't  in  our  faces  no  more." 


CHAPTER  XL 

SUSPENSE 

KATHARINE  never  knew  how  she  lived 
through  those  hours  between  Tuesday  and 
Friday,  the  day  set  for  the  consummation 
of  the  tragedy.  For  years  she  could  not  speak  of 
them,  could  not  think  of  them.  "  '  That  way  madness 
lies,'  "  she  would  say  to  herself,  when  they  presented 
themselves  to  her  memory.  Certain  dim  impressions 
she  had  of  doors  opening  to  let  in  a  pitying  face,  then 
gently  closing  again,  of  hearing  Elsie  wail,  "  I  want 
my  Mamma,"  and  of  someone  dragging  her  away,  of 
Nora  helping  her  to  undress  and  coaxing  her  to  drink 
a  glass  of  milk,  of  lying  awake  staring  at  the  night- 
lamp,  of  watching  the  light  grow  into  another  day, 
and  of  all  the  time  being  whirled  on,  on,  on,  to  that 
day,  that  hour ! 

She  must  have  slept,  and  yet  she  could  not  remem 
ber  to  have  done  so.  She  had  not  at  any  time,  she 
believed,  been  really  asleep  or  quite  awake;  then  all 
at  once  she  was  keenly,  sensitively  alive  to  the  ap 
proaching  crisis.  She  must  know — as  soon  as — it 
was  over.  Not  through  Arthur,  or  anyone  else  who 
could  feel  at  liberty  to  question,  or  comment,  or  look 


374         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

at  her  curiously.  A  messenger,  a  servant,  Jerry 
must  bring  the  news. 

While  it  was  yet  dark  she  arose  and  dressed  her 
self  and,  softly  unbolting  the  great  front  door,  stole 
out  of  the  house. 

Early  as  it  was,  there  was  a  light  in  the  barn. 
She  could  see  it  move  to  and  fro.  Jerry  was  doing 
his  chores.  He  was  earlier  than  usual.  He,  too, 
could  not  sleep.  He  had  not  called  the  "  green 
horn."  He  wanted  to  be  alone. 

She  paused  at  the  door.  The  smell  of  the  hay 
and  of  the  well-groomed  horses  came  out  to  her, 
bringing  associations  with  childish  games  of  hide- 
and-seek,  and  of  housekeeping  in  the  haymow, 
mingled  with  other  pictures  of  more  recent  date,  the 
coming  home  late  from  a  gallop  or  driving  her  steam 
ing  grays  with  a  flourish  up  to  the  door — memories 
of  careless,  happy,  light-hearted  childhood  and  girl 
hood.  A  woman,  now,  she  stood  there,  paying  the 
price  of  her  womanhood. 

"  Jerry,"  she  called  softly. 

He  came  out  at  once,  and  pulled  off  his  cap  when  he 
saw  who  had  called  him. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  Good-morning,  ma'am,"  he  said, 
as  if  it  were  no  unusual  occurrence  for  his  mistress  to 
present  herself  at  the  barn  at  four  o'clock  of  a  chilly 
November  morning. 

"  I  want  you,  Jerry,"  she  said  hastily,  "  to  go  down 
to  the  jail  and  bring  me  word  after — as  soon  as " 


SUSPENSE  375 


"  I  will,  ma'am,"  he  replied  earnestly.  "  Is  there — 
anything  else,  ma'am — any — word " 

"  No,  that's  all."  She  could  trust  herself  to  say  no 
more,  but  hurried  back  into  the  house  and  again 
bolted  the  door  behind  her. 

Five  o'clock  came,  six.  It  was  still  dark.  Seven, 
Nora  tapped  at  the  door.  Was  she  ready  for  her 
bath?  What  would  she  have  for  breakfast? 

The  young  Irishwoman  showed  wonderful  self- 
command.  Her  sorrow  for  the  prisoner  had  been 
absorbed  by  solicitude  for  her  mistress.  Katha 
rine  felt  her  strength  and  leaned  upon  it.  She  let 
Nora  brush  her  hair,  tie  her  slippers,  do  all  the  little 
things  for  which  she  had  always  scorned  to  have  a 
lady's  maid.  She  even  let  Nora  butter  her  toast  and 
pour  out  her  coffee,  ate  a  few  mouthfuls,  drank  a 
swallow  or  two,  dallying  with  the  agony  which  she 
knew  awaited  her. 

Eight  o'clock  came,  and  nine.  Jerry  was  riding 
out  of  the  yard  on  Brown  Bess,  her  own  saddle-horse, 
the  fleetest  animal  in  the  stable.  Now  it  all  came 
crowding  back  on  her  and  would  not  be  denied. 

"  Leave  me,  Nora,"  she  whispered,  "  and  don't  let 
anyone  in." 

As  an  extra  precaution  she  locked  the  door.  Then 
she  came  back  and  faced  it — the  horrible  dream,  the 
dreaded  reality. 

She  flung  herself  on  her  knees  before  the  great 
lounging-chair  in  which  she  made  him  sit,  the  day 


376         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

she  sang  her  song — their  song.     The  notes,  the  words 
came  back  now  mockingly : 

"  He  sang  of  Joy  in  overflow, 
He  sang  the  Pain  mankind  must  know. 
And  they  who  listened  to  that  voice, 
With  it  did  mourn,  with  it  rejoice." 

"  I  cannot,  oh,  I  cannot ! "  she  gasped.  "  It  is — • 
unendurable!  " 

In  a  niche  of  the  wall  an  alabaster  Pieta,  brought 
home  from  Florence,  slender  and  white  and  fragile  as 
the  Indian  pipes  that  spring  without  warning  in  the 
black  forest  mold,  ghosts  of  flowers,  caught  her  eye. 
It  had  been  almost  forgotten  among  the  gayer, 
brighter  treasures  of  the  room.  Now  it  was  the  only 
thing  she  saw :  the  pathetic  group,  the  white  Mother, 
the  white  Christ  upon  her  knees. 

"  O  Mother  of  Sorrows,"  she  prayed.  "  Even 
Christ  did  not  bear  what  you  bore — to  stand  by — to 
wait — till  it  was  done !  Help,  help,  Mother  of  God ! " 

A  touch  of  that  patience,  a  reflection  of  that  love 
came  to  her.  She,  too,  would  endure,  stand  by,  wait, 
and  claim  the  precious  clay. 

Was  that  a  bell  tolling?  It  must  not  be !  It  could 
not  be !  Was  there  no  power  on  earth,  in  Heaven,  to 
stop  this  monstrous  thing?  She  flung  out  her  arms 
like  one  drowning  and  grasped  the  arms  of  the  chair. 

"  *  0  Lord  most  holy,  0  God  most  mighty,  0  holy 
and  merciful  Saviour! '  "  she  prayed,  "  let  not  this 


SUSPENSE  377 


deed  of  violence  be  done!  Take  him  gently  to  Thy 
self!  '  0  Lord  most  holy,  0  God  most  mighty,  0  holy 
and  merciful  Saviour!  ' 

"  Holy  and  mighty  and  merciful  " — the  words  com 
forted  and  helped  her.  She  lay  prone,  clinging  to  the 
chair,  saying  them  over  and  over. 

A  horse!  Jerry  was  returning.  She  started  up 
and  fell  back.  Every  particle  of  strength  had  left 
her.  There  was  a  rap  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in !  "  she  faltered,  staggering  to  her  feet 
and  opening  the  door. 

It  was  Jerry.  Nora  was  with  him,  and  behind 
them  Sarah  Wellman's  rugged,  wrinkled  face  ap 
peared. 

"  Jack  Perry — brought — a  reprieve — from  the 
governor ! "  Jerry's  teeth  chattered.  "  But — the 
Parson — dropped  dead — when  he  heard  the  news !  " 

Katharine  clutched  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"  Jerry,"  she  said  with  tense  lips,  "put  the  grays 
into  the  surrey  and  drive  me  down  to  the  jail." 

Sarah  Wellman  came  into  the  room ;  and  neighbor 
hood  kindliness  came  with  her. 

"  Pm  goin',  too,  if  you'll  let  me,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  Fetch  her  bonnet  and  shawl,"  she  added,  turning 
to  Nora,  and  herself  wrapped  her  cloak  about  the 
younger  woman,  as  her  mother  might  have  done  it. 

Voices  were  heard  above,  of  the  children  and  Mabel 
and  Miss  Emmeline. 

"  Quick,"  said  Katharine,  seizing  Mrs.  Wellman's 


378         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

arm,  "  before  they  stop  me !  "  And  these  two,  who 
had  never  found  enough  in  common  to  bring  them 
within  more  than  speaking  distance  of  each  other, 
drove  away,  side  by  side,  Katharine's  hand  on  Mrs. 
Wellman's  knee  under  Mrs.  Wellman's  shawl,  pressed 
by  her  hard,  kind  old  palm. 

It  was  over.  He  was  gone.  She  was  left  behind. 
Nothing  remained  for  her  but  the  last  offices,  the 
heartbreak,  the  mourning  expressed  by  the  Pieta. 
That  was  the  way  of  it,  for  a  woman.  To  love,  to 
long,  to  clasp,  to  cherish,  and  to  be  left  with  memories 
and  the  consciousness  of  a  heart  made  keen  for 
aching. 


CHAPTER    XLI 

THE    REPRIEVE 

PRECISELY    at   five   minutes   before   ten,    on 
that    fateful   Friday    morning,   the   handcar 
reached  the  spot  on  N  Street  where  Mat  had 
seen  it  disappear  the  night  before. 

"  Stop,  boys,  stop,"  called  Jack,  straightening 
himself  with  an  effort,  "  I'll  get  off  here :  the  rest  of 
you  can  go  on  to  the  station."  He  dropped  from  the 
car  and  clambered  stiffly  up  the  slope. 

He  had  seen  a  man  approaching  on  a  big  gray 
mule.  Placing  himself  directly  in  the  path  of  the 
startled  traveler,  he  flourished  his  pistol  and  shouted, 
"  Get  down  and  gimme  that  mewl !  " 

"  Why,  Jack  Perry !  What  the  deuce ! "  called  the 
rider.  He  was  a  miner  whom  Jack  had  known  in 
Virginia  City. 

"  That's  all  right,"  exploded  Jack.  "  I'm  in  too 
damn  a  hurry  to  answer  any  fool  questions.  You  can 
come  around  to  the  jail  and  get  the  critter !  " 

He  swung  into  the  saddle. 

"  How  about  this  hangin'  ?  "  the  miner  called  after 
him,  but  Jack  had  astonished  the  mule  into  a  gallop 
and  was  already  nearly  out  of  sight. 

379 


380         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

He  reached  the  jail  just  as  the  clock  in  the  tower 
was  striking  ten.  The  little  company — sheriff,  guard 
and  prisoner — were  setting  out  from  Vaughan's  cell, 
for  in  spite  of  all  Mat's  efforts  everything  had  gone 
like  clockwork  that  morning,  everybody  had  been  on 
time. 

The  clock  had  finished  striking  the  hour  and  was 
beginning  to  toll  when  Jack  flung  himself  from  the 
mule  and  dashed  up  the  steps.  Along  the  gloomy 
hall  he  flew  as  if  his  great,  bulky  body  had  been 
endowed  with  wings,  and  came  upon  the  sad  group 
as  they  turned  the  first  corner.  He  caught  from  his 
breast  a  folded  paper  and  held  it  high  above  his  head. 

"  Reprieve !  Reprieve !  Reprieve ! "  he  shouted, 
until  the  walls  rang. 

The  three  men  stopped  abruptly;  the  one  in  the 
middle  threw  up  his  hands  and  fell  as  if  he  had  been 
shot. 

"  My  God,  I've  killed  him  now ! "  Jack  cried,  and 
threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  the  prostrate  form. 

"  Stand  back,  can't  you !  "  he  exclaimed  fiercely 
to  Mat  and  the  guard,  who  were  bending  over  him. 

"  Here,  out  of  the  way !  "  He  picked  up  the  sense 
less  body  as  if  it  had  been  a  child's,  and  carried  it 
down  the  hall  to  the  cell  it  had  left  a  few  minutes 
before.  They  followed  him. 

"  Open  the  door ! "  he  ordered  savagely,  and  they 
opened  it. 

He  laid  the  limp  form  tenderly  on  the  bed. 


THE   REPRIEVE  381 

"  Now,  get  out  of  here !  "  he  commanded,  "  and  stay 
out !  An'  if  any  damn  son-of-a-gun  shows  his  head 
here,  I'll  smash  his  face !  " 

They  retreated  in  disorder  and  told  the  jail,  whence 
the  news  spread  through  the  town,  that  a  reprieve  had 
come,  the  Parson  had  dropped  dead,  and  Jack  Perry 
had  gone  crazy  from  overexertion  and  grief. 

Only  one  of  these  statements  was  true.  Jack  had 
not  gone  crazy  and  the  Parson  was  not  dead.  A  faint 
flutter  could  be  detected  at  the  wrist  when  Jack's  big 
finger  pressed  it.  He  stretched  himself  on  the  cot 
and  dragged  Vaughan's  body  over  on  his  own.  There 
it  lay,  relaxed  and  helpless,  on  the  great,  generous 
frame  that  throbbed  from  head  to  foot  with  desire  to 
give  and  give  and  give. 

Beyond  any  outline  or  impression  of  a  dream  Clem 
ent  had  drifted,  at  first.  At  length,  outlines  and 
impressions  began  to  shape  themselves  into  thoughts 
and  feelings.  He  thought  he  was  on  a  raft,  far  out 
at  sea.  It  was  strong  and  tight.  He  felt  secure. 
But  resting  upon  it,  stretched  at  full  length,  he  could 
feel  the  tide  rise  under  him,  could  feel  the  motion  of 
the  waves.  Gradually,  the  outlines  filled,  the  impres 
sions  grew  distinct.  He  saw  through  parting  eyelids 
the  gray  walls  of  his  cell.  The  raft  on  which  he  lay — - 
was  Jack's  great,  generous  body ;  the  rising  of  the 
tide — was  his  breath;  the  motion  of  the  waves — was 
the  beating  of  his  heart. 

He  stirred  and  sighed.     Jack's  free  hand  went  to 


38£         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

his  hip-pocket  and  drew  out  a  flask.  He  pulled  the 
cork  with  his  teeth  and  put  the  bottle  to  Vaughan's 
lips. 

"  What  is  it?  "  Vaughan  asked  faintly. 

"  It's  life,  Parson,"  said  Jack  solemnly.  "  You've 
got  to  take  it,  even  if  you  don't  wanter.  You  were 
ready  to  take  the  other,  the  black  dose,  now  take  this," 

Vaughan  obeyed.  The  fiery  liquor  tingled  through 
his  veins.  He  fell  into  a  natural  sleep. 

Jack  gently  laid  him  down,  hung  over  him,  gloated 
over  him. 

There  came  a  short,  sharp,  decisive  tap  at  the  door. 

"  Hell !  "  cried  Jack  indignantly. 

"  Please  let  me  speak  with  you,  Mr.  Perry  !  "  called 
a  woman's  voice. 

In  high  dudgeon  Jack  tiptoed  to  the  door,  opened 
it,  stepped  out  and  closed  it  behind  him. 

Katharine  Chisholm  stood  in  the  hall.  The  noon 
day  light  from  the  narrow  window  fell  full  on  her. 
She  had  thrown  back  her  hood.  Her  heavy  cloak 
dropped  from  her  shoulders,  displaying  the  black 
gown  she  wore  beneath. 

"Black!  Well,  she  had  nerve!"  thought  Jack. 
He  frowned  down  upon  her  from  his  great  height. 
She  looked  back  at  him  timidly.  Pier  beauty  had 
never  had  such  an  appeal  in  it;  and  for  this  he  dis 
trusted  her  the  more. 

She  put  out  her  hand.  He  pretended  not  to  see  it., 
Her  eyes  swam  with  sudden  tears. 


THE   REPRIEVE  383 

"This  ain't  no  place  for  you,  ma'am,"  he  said 
roughly. 

"  More  for  me  than  for  you,"  she  returned  bravely. 
"  Men  for  life,  women  for — death !  "  She  whispered 
the  word. 

Jack's  keen  glance  pierced  her. 

So  that  was  it :  she  thought  the  man  was  dead.  He 
would  let  her  think  so. 

"  I  should  calc'late  the  Parson'd  had  about  enough 
— of — wimmin  !  "  he  said  brutally. 

"  Ah !  "  she  breathed.  It  was  a  cruel  scab.  But 
she  persisted. 

"  Dear,  good,  kind  Jack,"  she  pleaded,  "  give  me — 
his  precious  body ! — All  my  days  I'll  bless  you — on  my 
knees  ! — It  is  so  much  to  me ! — And  yet  it  is  so  little ! 
No  woman  ever  claimed  so  little !  " 

"  It's  all  most  of  'em  want ! "  he  muttered  under 
his  breath.  She  did  not  hear  him. 

"Just  to  care  for  it — as  his  mother  might,"  she 
went  on,  "  to  prepare  it  for  the  long  sleep ! "  She 
stretched  out  her  hands  with  an  indescribably 
pathetic  gesture. 

"  What'll  folks  say?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

She  blazed  at  him.  "  We've  been  influenced  by  that 
long  enough!  It  was  for  that  you  dragged  him  to 
prison,  and  his  soul  so  white  it  made  yours  pitchy 
black 

"  What  folks  say !  That  was  why  you  sent  him  to 
the  gallows — him  to  the  gallows,  O  my  God! 


384         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

"  And  he  gave  you  his  heart's  blood,  the  untiring 
service  of  his  hands,  his  brain,  his  thought,  his 
prayers !  " 

The  tears  rained  down  her  face.  Still  he  would  not 
spare  her.  He  would  be  sure  of  her;  and  for  this 
he  thrust  her  through  and  through. 

"  They  say  'twas  because  he  wanted  to  please  you 
that  he  done  it.  I've  thought  so  myself,  some 
times." 

"To  please  me?"  she  cried  out  bitterly.  "He 
never  so  much  as  touched  my  hand,  except  as  the 
courtesies  of  the  occasion  demanded  it.  And  I — 
adored  him !  And  he — knew  it ! — I  don't  care  who 
knows  it  now.  I'll  walk  bareheaded  behind  his  bier 
that  all  the  world  may  know !  I'll  mourn  as  the  poor 
women  of  the  street  mourn,  who  have  the  luxury 
we  lack,  the  luxury  of  grief !  " 

Slowly,  steadily,  faith  in  her  showed  in  his  eyes. 
She  saw  it. 

"  You  will  give  me  the  body  now?  "  she  said  wist 
fully. 

A  strange  look  came  over  his  face. 

"  What  if  I  tell  you— there's  life  in  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  Life  ?  "  she  cried,  with  parted  lips. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  he's  alive,  and  sleepin'  like  a  child. 
Do  you  wanter  look?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  "  she  drew  back. 

"  '  Oh,  no,  no,'  "  he  mimicked.  "  Now  you  draw 
back,  now  you  let  go.  You  don't  want  him,  alive." 


THE    REPRIEVE  385 

She  pulled  her  cloak  about  her,  flushing  rosy  red. 
She  was  like  a  startled  doe,  he  thought. 

"  He — he  might  not  like  it,"  she  said  hurriedly. 
"  But — he's  alive !  alive !  and  sleeping  like  a  child, 
you  said?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  like  a  babe.  I'll  bring  him  outer 
this.  I'll  tend  him  good." 

She  clasped  her  hands  in  a  fervor  of  thanksgiving. 

"  Do !  Do ! — And  if  there's  anything  he  wants — or 
that  you  think  he  ought  to  have ' 

"  He'll  have  it,  ma'am,  don't  you  fret!  You  ain't 
the  only  one  that  sets  store  by  him !  " 

"  And  if  I  send  Jerry  down  to  learn  how  he  is " 

"  I'll  keep  you  posted,  ma'am." 

"  God  bless  you,  Jack."  She  pressed  his  hand  to 
her  heart  and,  drawing  her  cloak  about  her,  flashed 
past  him  down  the  corridor,  to  Sarah  Wellman,  there 
to  sob  out  on  the  shoulder  of  the  woman  from  Ply 
mouth  Rock  the  crowding  emotions  she  could  no 
longer  contain. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

TO    THE    DESERT 

THE  reprieve  became  a  pardon.  Jack  took 
his  patient  home.  Martha  was  degraded 
to  the  ranks.  Jack  became  commanding 
officer. 

He  gave  Vaughan  his  bed  and  slept  on  the  floor, 
rolled  in  a  blanket.  Martha  slept  in  the  kitchen — or 
wherever  she  saw  fit.  She  was  told  what  to  say  to 
people  who  inquired  for  the  sick  man  and  to  "  keep 
the  cusses  out."  But  she  was  not  permitted  so  much 
as  to  cook  the  meals  offered  to  the  invalid.  Jack  did 
that  himself.  He  broiled  sage  hens  to  the  exquisite 
point  of  perfection  which  lies  between  underdone 
and  done-too-much;  he  made  a  hunter's  stew  of  ven 
ison  that  would  coax  the  gastric  juices  out  of  the 
most  obdurate  stomach;  he  devised  countless  changes 
and  additions  in  the  diet  necessarily  limited  by  cir 
cumstances  and  the  condition  of  the  patient,  and 
chuckled  to  himself  when  he  came  out  of  the  sick 
room  with  his  empty  plates. 

The  dainties  sent  in  by  sympathetic  friends  he 
scorned,  but  the  flowers,  a  daily  offering  from  the 
Barkers  and  Mrs.  Wellman  and  from  the  Chisholm 
conservatories,  Martha  was  allowed  to  put  into  empty 

386 


TO   THE   DESERT  387 

bottles  and  set  up  around  the  room,  like  a  Kate 
Greenaway  frieze. 

Letters  came  from  the  Henleys  and  the  Dowers, 
and  from  the  Superintendent  of  Missions.  Jack  laid 
them  all  in  the  upper  bureau-drawer  and  fed  them 
out,  one  at  a  time,  during  convalescence,  as  he  thought 
Vaughan  could  bear  them,  the  Superintendent's  last. 

Clement  shared  them  with  him,  except  certain 
tender  personal  passages  from  the  Galena  women. 
The  Superintendent's  letter  he  read  entire.  It  con 
tained  information  better  than  broiled  sage  hen  or 
venison  broth  to  build  up  the  strength  of  the  sick 
man.  Eureka  had  petitioned  as  one  man  that  the 
Parson  be  allowed  to  remain.  The  Superintendent 
retracted  his  decision  of  November  tenth.  He  hoped 
Vaughan  would  stay. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Jack  shortly.  "We'll 
talk  about  that  later.  But  now — how'd  you  like  to 
go  South,  into  the  desertj  with  Dick  Dale,  for  a 
while?" 

Clement  drew  a  long  breath.  "  I'd  like  it !  "  he 
exclaimed  fervently. 

Associations  pressed  close  here,  in  spite  of  Jack's 
ministrations  and  defenses.  He  longed  to  be  out  of 
it  all  and  away ;  to  have  a  chance  to  make  a  man  of 
himself  again. 

"Well,  you're  goin',  anyway,"  said  Jack  grimly. 
"  We've  got  the  arrangements  all  made.  It's  just 
as  well  for  you  to  go  peaceable." 


388         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

When  Jerry  called  as  usual  for  news,  one  morning 
not  long  after  this,  he  was  told  that  Jack  himself 
would  bring  the  news  that  afternoon. 

Katharine  received  him  with  an  impatience  which 
she  found  it  hard  to  conceal,  and  led  the  way  to  her 
little  sitting-room. 

"  Mr.  Vaughan  must  be  a  great  deal  better,  to 
spare  his  nurse,"  she  said,  by  way  of  an  opening. 

"  He's  enough  better,"  returned  Jack  tranquilly, 
"  so's  I'm  sending  him  off  into  the  desert  this  after 
noon,  long  o'  Dick  Dale.  Can  you  git  up  on  the  roof 
of  this  house?  They  calc'late  to  pass  the  Geiger 
Grade  about  three  o'clock,  and  it's  pretty  near  that 
now." 

"  Come,'9  she  cried,  snatching  a  fleecy  white  shawl 
from  the  hall  table.  "  This  way !  "  She  fled  up  the 
stairs.  He  panted  after. 

Down  a  long,  dark  passage  she  led  him,  up  another 
flight,  and  they  were  in  the  attic.  There  was  a  ladder 
here,  leading  to  a  scuttle  in  the  roof.  She  was  up 
like  a  kitten,  pushed  back  the  trapdoor  and  climbed 
out  on  the  tiles.  The  roof  was  not  quite  flat,  but 
she  kept  her  footing  till  she  reached  one  of  the 
chimneys. 

"  You  can  see  pretty  good  here,"  he  said,  joining 
her  in  the  shadow  of  the  chimney. 

"  Yes,  but "  she  halted,  "they  cannot  see  us!  " 

She  stood  on  tiptoe  and  stretched  up  to  her  fullest 
height.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  this  will  never  do.  There 


TO    THE    DESERT  389 

are  boxes  in  the  attic.  If  you  could  hand  me  up  a 
box " 

He  entered  into  the  spirit  of  her  effort.  "  Sure !  " 
he  cried. 

A  big  packing-box  was  pushed  through  the  scuttle 
and  placed  by  the  chimney.  Immediately  the  round, 
bright  head  of  a  child  appeared  in  the  opening. 

"  You,  too  ?  "  asked  Jack.  He  laughed  as  he 
lifted  Miss  Elsie  to  the  box  beside  her  mother. 

"  There  they  are !  "  murmured  Katharine. 

Two  horsemen  were  riding  slowly  down  L  Street 
in  the  direction  of  the  Geiger  Grade.  The  taller, 
slighter  of  the  two  lagged  behind,  as  if — her  heart 
leaped  at  the  thought — he  were  loath  to  leave.  Now 
and  then  he  turned  in  the  saddle  and  looked 
back.  If  she  could  only  see  his  face!  If  she 
could  read  his  heart!  To  have  but  this  remote, 
fleeting  glimpse  of  him! — Hush,  and  thank  God  for 
that! 

With  the  forthputting  of  her  patience  came  a 
boon.  The  horsemen  wheeled,  the  taller,  slighter 
first.  They  were  looking  towards  Richmond  Hill. 
She  tore  the  fleecy  white  shawl  from  her  head  and 
throat,  and  flung  it  out  like  a  banner.  Elsie  clung 
to  her  skirts,  frantically  shaking  her  pinafore. 

Was  he  too  far  away  ?  No,  he  had  seen  the  flutter 
ing  signals.  Slowly,  slowly,  he  lifted  his  sombrero 
and  held  it  high  above  his  head,  in  salute.  His  com 
panion  followed  his  example.  So  they  remained, 


390         THE    SAGE    BRUSH    PARSON 

motionless  as  statues,  doing  homage  to  that  white 
flag  until  it  fell. 

"  Come,  Jack,  and  help  us  down,"  called  Katharine. 
"  Stop,  Elsie.  We  must  let  them  go." 

"  He  calc'lates  to  be  gone  about  two  months," 
said  Jack,  as  he  lifted  down  first  one  and  then  the 
other.  "  He  told  rne  to  tell  you.  He  wanted  you  to 
know." 

They  turned  again  in  the  direction  of  the  Geiger 
Grade.  The  horsemen  had  disappeared.  But  on  the 
road  they  had  taken  Katharine  saw  them  whenever 
she  looked  that  way;  saw  Clement  wheel  and  lift  his 
hat,  saw  him  wait  there,  motionless,  heard  Jack  say, 
"  He  told  me  to  tell  you.  He  wanted  you  to  know." 

And  Clement,  riding  away  from  the  little  mining 
town,  from  the  church  where  he  had  been  blessed  as 
well  as  harassed,  the  courthouse  and  the  jail  where 
he  had  achieved  as  well  as  suffered,  from  the  man 
who  had  nursed  him  as  tenderly  as  a  woman,  and  the 
woman  who  had  loved  him  with  the  courage  and 
directness  of  a  man,  received  as  the  token  and  emblem 
of  all  these,  their  beckoning  and  their  benediction, 
the  flutter  of  that  white  flag  on  Richmond  Hill. 

But  these  were  of  the  Day  he  was  now  leaving,  the 
Day  to  which  he  would  return.  Between  lay  a  Night 
of  vigil,  of  isolation,  of  shadow,  of  wide-open  spaces, 
of  mysterious,  hidden  influences,  of  communion  with 
the  stars ; — a  Night  of  reconsecration  to  God  and  His 
work. 


GOOD  NOVELS  AT  LITTLE  COST 

Popular  Editions  of  Recent  Fiction 

Reissues  of  favorite  copyrighted  novels,  illustrated  (with  few  excep 
tions),  and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth.     12mo.     Price,  75  cents  each. 

1.  THE  RAINBOW   CHASERS.     A  Story  of  the  Plains. 

By  JOHN  H.  WHITSON. 

It  presents  with  striking  vividness  a  picture  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  a  boom  town. — Boston 
Ti  anscript. 

2.  FROM  KINGDOM  TO  COLONY.     By  MARY  DEVEREUX. 

It  is  many  a  long  day  since  such  a  charming  love  story  has  been  written.  — Literary  World. 

3.  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  CZAR.     By  JOHN  R.  CARLIXG. 

An  engrossing  romance  of  the  sturdy,  wholesome  sort,  in  which  the  action  is  never  allowed  to 
drag.  —  Boston  Herald. 

4.  WHITE  APRONS.     By  MAUD  WILDER  GOODWIN. 

Has  the  true  qualities  of  historical  romance,  dramatic   situation,  and  stirring  incident,  coupled 
with  accuracy  and  literary  charm. —  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

5.  A   DREAM   OF  A  , THRONE.      By   CHARLES    FLEMING 

EMBREE. 

A  powerful   story,  with  constantly  changing    movement,  strong  color,  and  striking  effects. 
—  Philadelphia  North  American. 

6.  IN   THE    COUNTRY    GOD    FORGOT.      By  FRANCES 

CHARLES. 

The  sky  and  the  cacti  and  the  droughts  of  Arizona  are  stamped  in  on  the  brain  as  one  reads.   The 
characters  loom  forcibly  out  of  the  arid  air.  —  The  Nation. 

7.  WITHOUT  DOGMA.     By  HENRYK  SIENKIEWICZ.    Author 

of  "  Quo  Vadis." 

Intensely  human,  intellectually  a    masterpiece,    and    throughout  entertains. — Philadelphia 
Telegraph. 

8.  A  DETACHED   PIRATE.     By  HELEN  MILECETE. 

A  charming  young  English  woman  is  the  self-styled  pirate  of  this  book.  —  The  Outlook. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY"^ 


9.  KISMET.     By  JULIA  FLETCHER  (George  Fleming). 

It  is  BO  fresh  and  sweet  and  innocent  and  joyous,  the  dialogue  is  so  natural  and  bright,  the 
characters  so  keenly  edged,  and  the  descriptions  BO  pathetic.  — Extract  from  a  letter. 

10.  A    DAUGHTER    OF    NEW    FRANCE.      By   MARY 
CATHERINE  CROWLEY. 

A  strong,  vivid  romance,  and  has  reproduced  with  rare  skill  the  social  atmosphere  of  the  time, 
as  well  as  the  spirit  of  adventure  that  was  in  the  air.  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

11.  THE  LOVE-LETTERS  OF  THE  KING;  or,  The  Life 
Romantic.     By  RICHARD  LE  GALLIENNE. 

He  possesses  charm,  sweetness,  native  poesy.  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

12.  WITH  FIRE  AND  SWORD.    By  HENRYK  SIENKIEWICZ. 
Translated  by  Jeremiah  Curtin. 

The  only  modern  romance  with  which  it  can  be  compared  for  fire,  sprightliness,  rapidity'of  action, 
swift  changes,  and  absorbing  interest  is  "The  Three  Musketeers"  of  Dumas.  —  New  York 
Tribune. 

13.  A   MAID   OF  BAR    HARBOR.       By    HENRIETTA    G. 
ROWE. 

Mrs.  Rowe  writes  of  the  country  life,  character  and  traditions,  and  dialect  with  the  sure  touch 
of  the  observer  at  first  hand.  —  Providence  Journal. 

14.  UP  AND  DOWN  THE  SANDS  OF  GOLD.     By  MARY 

DEVEREUX. 

The  story  is  one  of  sunshine  and  shade,  of  smiles  and  tears.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

15.  THE  KING'S  HENCHMAN.     A  Chronicle  of  the  Six 
teenth  Century.     By  WILLIAM  HENRY  JOHNSON. 

Mr.  Johnson  has  caught  the  spirit  of  the  period,  and  has  painted  in  Henry  of  Navarre  a  truth 
ful  and  memorable  historical  portrait.  —  The  Mail  and  Express,  New  York. 

16.  WHEN  THE  GATES  LIFT  UP  THEIR  HEADS.      A 

Story  of  the  South  in  the  Seventies.     By  PAYNE  ERSKINE. 

A  very  remarkable  story  of  the  South  after  the  war.  —  Boston  Budget. 

17.  A  ROSE  OF  NORMANDY.    By  WILLIAM  R.  A.  WILSON. 

Stirs  the  blood,  warms  the  heart,  and  holds  the  interest  in  a  firm  grip  from  beginning  to  end. 
—  Chicago  Tribune. 

18.  BARBARA,  A  WOMAN  OF  THE  WEST.      By  JOHN 
H.  WHITSON. 

A  story  original  in  ideas,  clever  in  construction,  and  interesting  to  the  last  word.  —  Neu 
York  World. 


POPULAR  EDITIONS  OF  RECENT  FICTION 


19.  THE    HEROINE    OF    THE    STRAIT.       By     MARY 
CATHERINE  CROWLEY. 

A  story  of  absorbing  interest,  told  in  a  praiseworthy  and  skilful  manner.  —  Current  Literature. 

20.  LOVE    THRIVES    IN    AVAR.      By   MARY   CATHERINE 
CROWLEY. 

The  author  is  saturated  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  time,  and  has  told  her  story  with  zest  and 
spirit.     It  is  a  picturesque,  well-imagined  tale.  —  New  York  Times  Saturday  Review. 

21.  A  GIRL  OF  VIRGINIA.     By  LUCY  M.  THRUSTON. 

The  author  has  given  us  a  picture  of  modern  girlhood  that  goes  straight  to  the  heart  and  stays 
there.—  New  York  Globe. 

22.  PAINTED  SHADOWS.      By   RICHARD  LE  GALLIENNE. 

Rich  in  poetic  interpretation.  — Boston  Transcript. 

23.  THE  VIKING'S  SKULL.     By  JOHN  R.  CARLING. 

A  capital  tale  of  mystery  and  detection  of  crime.    The  ingenuity  with  which  its  intricacies  are 
threaded  is  really  wonderful.  —  New  York  Times. 

24.  SARAH  TULDON.     By  ORME  AGNUS. 

A  remarkable  study  of  an  English  peasant  girl  of  strong  character  who  was  developed  into  • 
fine,  noble  hearted,  and  generous  woman.  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

25.  THE  SIEGE  OF  YOUTH.     By  FRANCES  CHARLES. 

Of  uncommon  power.      There  is  much  bright  and  epigrammatic  conversation.      Among  the 
notable  good  books  of  the  year.  — Argonaut,  San  Francisco. 

26.  HASSAN,  A  FELLAH.      A  Romance  of  Palestine.     By 
HENRY  GILLMAN. 

It  is  romance  of  the  strongest  type.    Many  pages  fairly  glow  with  color.  —  Public  Opinion. 

27.  THE  WOLVERINE.     By  ALBERT  L.  LAWRENCE. 

An  uncommonly  vivid  and  well  sustained  story  of  pioneer  days  in  Michigan.  —  New  York  Globe. 

28.  CURLY.     A  /Tale  of  the  Arizona  Desert.      By   ROGER 

POCOCK. 

The  best  cowboy  story  since  "  The  Virginian."  —  The  Outlook. 

29.  JUSTIN    WINGATE,    Ranchman.      By  JOHN   H. 

WHITSON. 

An  accurate  and  adequate  picture  of  the  Western  life  of  the  day.  —  New  York  Sun. 


POPULAR  EDITIONS  OF  RECENT  FICTION 


30.  A   KNOT   OF   BLUE.       By   WILLIAM   R.    A.  WILSON. 

A  strong,  fanciful  weaving  together  ^of  incidents  of  adventure,  intrigue,  and  gallantry.  —  New 
York  World. 

31.  THE  HEAD  OF  A  HUNDRED.      By   MAUD  WILDER 
GOODWIN. 

Charming  for  its  sweetness  and  truth.  —  New  York  Times. 

32.  THE  WEIRD  PICTURE.     By  JOHN  R.  CARLING. 

Leads  the  reader  through  a  maze  of  mystery  and  adventure.  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

33.  A  PRINCE  OF  LOVERS.     By  SIR  WILLIAM  MAGNAY. 

A  remarkable  story  of  love,  adventure,  and  intrigue.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

34.  SWEET  PEGGY.     By  LINNIE  SARAH  HARRIS. 

A  jolly,  wholesome  love  story  in  the  good  old-fashioned  manner.  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

35.  JOURNEYS    WITH    DUMAS.      The   Speronara.      By 
ALEXANDRE    DUMAS.     Translated  by  KATHARINE  PRESCOTT 
WORMELEY. 

These  pages  simply  teem  with  entertainment.  —  New  York  Evening  Sun. 

36.  SIR  CHRISTOPHER.     By  MAUD  WILDER  GOODWIN. 

One  of  the  strongest  and  most  wholesome  romances  ever  brought  forth  from  Maryland  and 
Virginia.  —  Cleveland  World. 

37.  FILE  No.  113.     By   EMILE    GABORIAU.      Translated   by 
GEORGE  BURNHAM  IVES. 

A  masterpiece  of  its  kind,  one  of  the  best  detective  stories  ever  written.  —  New  York  Tribune. 

38.  MY  LADY  CLANCARTY.     By  MARY  IMLAY  TAYLOR. 

A  wholesome,  vigorous,  stirring,  refreshing  tale.  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

39.  WHERE    THE    TIDE    COMES    IN.      By   LUCY   M. 
THRUSTON. 

A  novel  of  dramatic  force,  with  a  good  plot.  —  New  York  Times. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  Publishers,  BOSTON 


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"^      jrf 

22    ..* 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
FORM  NO.  DD6,  60m,  12/80        BERKELEY  CA  94720 

®s 


YB  72875 


536 


